Requiem for a Soldier
by MissAndrony
Summary: While arguing with Mamoru, Usagi lets Michiru use the song from her star locket to finish her mother's greatest work...until a demon's curse brings damning repercussions upon all of them. STORY IS NOW FINISHED!
1. Requiem Aeterum

Well, after standing for an hour and a half having four hundred girls   
glaring at you 'cause your choir teacher let you wear flip-flops under your dress (the only good thing that came from stubbing your toe on the elevator at   
your hotel) and they're all passing out around you (hey...it was hot in there,   
damnit), it's nice to see that something came of the whole thing besides my   
credit card bill (I won the shopping award...I'm not sure if I should be proud   
of that).   
  
Just to clarify a couple of things: the Requiem Mass is a very old Roman   
Catholic prayer (c. 3rd century A.D.) that is said or sung when someone passes   
on. In other words, a death mass. Many composers put the prayer to song,   
including Mozart, Brahms, Verdi, and Andrew Lloyd Webber. There are nine parts:   
Requiem Aeternum, Kyrie Eleison, Dies Irae (which was added during the 12th   
century), the Offertorio, Sanctus, Benedictus, Agnus Dei, Lux Aeterna, and   
Libera Me. Since I'm using Verdi's scheme to name the chapters (he combined the   
Requiem and Kyrie Eleison as well as Sanctus and Benedictus), there'll only be   
seven, partially because this fits the story scheme better, and partially   
because I signed up for 3 AP classes and have college apps to fill out and   
frankly, I treasure my free time. Feel honored I chose to spend it on this (I   
really am kidding...too much bitter Underground man talking...ack! I hate that   
book!) If you're interested in the Requiem (and a translation) you can find out   
more here:   
http://usrwww.mpx.com.au/~charles/Requiem/lyrics.htm   
  
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Sailormoon. Get over it.   
  
  
Requiem for a Soldier   
Part I: Requiem Aeternum (Eternal Rest)   
Rating: R   
Email: tennyo@home.com   
  
  
It was quiet for once in Tokyo; the dull roar of the city seemed no more   
than an insolent drone. A cold gale blew harshly around the young girl, chilling her to the bone. Everything around her was old, worn. Even the sky seemed tired and dim.   
  
She saw the blood red leaves fall from the maple trees around her. Her   
long pigtails blew aimlessly around her face.   
  
Time passes, seasons change. Everything dies, only to blossom again next   
Spring.   
  
Ami once told her the story of Hades and Persephone: how Demeter refused   
to let the earth bear fruit because her daughter had been stolen away, how her   
precious child was bound to return to the dark underworld because Hades had   
tricked her into eating the food of the dead. In Spring, when Persephone came   
home, everything was beautiful again.   
  
A nice enough story. Creepy, but nice. And once in a while she dared to   
wonder if Persephone hated the underworld, if she had been really kidnapped, or   
maybe. . . just maybe . . . but that wasn't the point. Persephone was *kidnapped*. That was all there was to it.   
  
So with a heavy sigh, she pulled out her star locket and opened it. She   
kept it with her these days, as if to remind her . . . of something. The soft,   
tinkling music pervaded her ears. Funny how it used to bring her such comfort.   
  
Funny how things change.   
  
With an infuriated gesture, she snapped it shut, rapidly cutting the   
soothing music off.   
  
He'd been so distant since he'd returned from America. Cold, even. And   
yet she couldn't exactly put her finger on what it was that had come between   
them. Maybe she'd changed, but if she knew anything, it was that she would   
always be Usagi, for better or for worse. He never answered his phone, even   
when she *knew* he was home, and he concentrated on his schoolwork with an   
almost frightening intensity. That was the thing about Chiba Mamoru; with him,   
you were everything or nothing at all. Except . . . Usagi never knew what she meant to him.   
  
Right now, however, it was leaning towards nothing.   
  
For a while, she'd even wondered if he'd found someone else, but when she   
approached him he denied it feverishly, frantically swore that she was the only   
one for him.   
  
But if that was true, why wouldn't he touch her? Why wouldn't he look her in the eye?   
  
With quick, jerky movements, she pulled her coat around her. It was so   
cold. It made her wonder if *he* had somehow caused it. Usagi pushed roughly   
through the silent crowds.   
  
And crashed smack-dab into someone.   
  
She looked up and blushed. Mamoru's lanky form towered above her, gazing   
at her listlessly. Figured.   
  
"Good afternoon, Usa-ko."   
  
Usa-ko. What a joke.   
  
"Hey, Mamoru," Usagi didn't notice him wince, "how're you?"   
  
"Fine," he said, staring intently at her. He made no move towards her,   
simply clutched the book he was holding a little harder.   
  
Normally she loved those deep blue eyes, but the feel of them staring so   
formidably at her, full of passion but completely unreadable, was beginning to   
make her a little angry. She remembered it, three nights ago, in a restaurant   
that charged as much as a new manga for a mere soda. The way she'd yelled at   
him while he simply sat there, staring at her in that exact same way.   
  
He finally looked down. "Still angry?" His face was drawn, pale.   
  
"You bet I am," she bit back saucily. If he could just . . . if he   
would. . . . "If you'd just talk to me, Mamo-chan--"   
  
Mamoru turned away from her abruptly. "I have a class, Usa-ko. We'll talk about this later." It took everything he had not to run, but she didn't   
know that. He didn't expect her to know, much less understand.   
  
"NO WE WON'T!" she screamed at the retreating figure. "BECAUSE YOU WON'T   
TALK TO ME AT ALL!"   
  
He didn't even look back.   
  
Damn him. The wind blew harder and the clouds rolled in. A hot, fat drop   
slipped down her face--at first, she thought it was the rain. Swiping furiously   
at her cheek, she started to sprint away, longing to be anywhere but here,   
anyone but herself right now...   
  
And she crashed into someone else.   
  
"Still can't seem to go anywhere without crashing into people, ne, neko-   
chan?"   
  
She looked up. "Haruka-san?"   
  
The slim, boyish blonde smiled and ruffled Usagi's hair. "It's been a   
while, hasn't it?"   
  
"Mm-hmm," Usagi said softly, trying to sound cool and composed. The   
Outers had always seemed the epitome of inner poise to her; Usagi desperately   
wished she could have Haruka's relentless confidence or Michiru's cool elegance.   
Maybe then Mamoru wouldn't be drifting away from her . . .   
  
"Is something the matter, neko-chan? You look sad."   
  
She pulled her chin up and plastered on a smile. "I'm fine, Haruka-san."   
  
Haruka smirked. "Nice try, neko-chan, but you're a terrible liar. God,   
it's cold out here! How about we go some place and warm up?"   
  
With a real smile, Usagi allowed Haruka to lead her to the parking garage.   
  
*********   
  
"Chamomile?"   
  
"Sounds yummy." Usagi drank the tea Michiru had poured for her in three   
gulps. She'd never been to Haruka and Michiru's home, the stately mansion by   
the sea decorated in soft, cool colors expertly chosen to augment each room's   
best features yet still seem unified--undoubtedly the artistic Michiru's work.   
Her paintings dotted the walls. Opulent, no doubt, but there was something   
about the house that still seemed cozy. It felt like a home.   
  
Usagi remembered how Mamoru's apartment never really felt like a home,   
more like a hotel room. As if he--and she--were merely strangers passing   
through by chance.   
  
"Something on your mind, Usagi-chan?" Michiru smiled kindly. "You look   
distracted."   
  
"I've never been here before," Usagi said very solemnly, still staring at   
the walls.   
  
"You haven't?" Haruka was sprawled on the couch, her head hanging down to   
the floor. "I thought you'd been to our little cottage by the sea, as Michiru   
likes to put it."   
  
"Iie." Usagi stood up and stared out the glass doors. The sea was   
churning viciously that afternoon; it was stormy, like the sky. "It's   
so . . . homey."   
  
"Home is where the heart is," Michiru shrugged, blushing at her corny   
statement.   
  
"And the bedroom," Haruka added wickedly, winking at Michiru. Her partner   
turned red; Usagi giggled. As she'd gotten older, she'd come to terms with the   
nature of Haruka and Michiru's relationship. Minako had once told her she was   
more mature than all of them for it, and] the couple seemed truly grateful that   
their Princess accepted them so fully.   
  
Right now, she sensed Michiru sit down next to Haruka and start bantering   
with her partner. Despite the argumentative tone, Usagi could almost hear the   
love in her voice . . . almost like something she could reach out and touch.   
  
Usagi turned around. "How do you two do it?" she asked, staring at her   
shoes.   
  
"Do what?" the two Outers asked simultaneously.   
  
"I don't know," she mumbled. "I guess . . . how are you so right for each   
other?"   
  
"Right for each other?"   
  
"It's so easy for you," she muttered at them, flopping onto the couch.   
"You just . . . love each other. There's nothing *difficult* about it."   
  
Michiru looked at Haruka and little light bulbs went off over their heads.   
"Usagi-chan, are you having problems with Mamoru-san?"   
  
"I don't even know," she whispered sadly. "It's like I'm reaching out but   
he's still too far away."   
  
"He loves you, you know," Haruka said very seriously. "Even if he isn't   
really comfortable with it." She turned right side up and muttered something   
about a head rush. Michiru patted her lover's woozy skull and smirked.   
  
"Comfortable?" Usagi was too perplexed to pay attention.   
  
Michiru sat next to Usagi and wrapped an arm around the smaller girl.   
"He's not exactly an open book, Usagi-chan, but I don't think Mamoru-san likes   
the idea that he needs someone else as much as he really does. Try to be   
patient with him."   
  
"I DO try!" Usagi cried, bounding up from the sofa. "Why does he always   
pull away from me? The first thing he did after he came back from the dead was   
call Harvard and see if they'd still take him! He stayed an extra seven months,   
and . . . and ever since he got back . . . he won't talk to me, won't touch me,   
he's always so . . . so. . . ." Usagi flopped next to the dangling Haruka.   
  
When she sat down, the star locket fell out of her coat and opened,   
playing its soft melody for the two elder senshi. Michiru's ears pricked like a   
rabbit's as she listened intently to the small tune.   
  
"Lousy thing," Usagi muttered, snapping it shut.   
  
"Wait a minute!" Michiru cried. "What was that?"   
  
"This . . .? My star locket. It's from the Moon Kingdom. I gave it to   
Endymion before I died, and Tuxedo Kamen gave it to me."   
  
"I recognize it," Michiru said impatiently, "but what was that song?"   
  
Haruka put a hand to her forehead. "Oh God, here we go again..."   
  
"Well excuse me for seeking immortality, Ten'oh Haruka!"   
  
"What?" Usagi was decidedly confused.   
  
"Michiru's decided that being the best violin AND cello player in the free   
world isn't enough for her," Haruka groaned. "So she started composing. But   
there's a problem."   
  
"What's that?" Usagi asked.   
  
"Composer's block," Haruka said with a smirk.   
  
Usagi stared at Michiru. "Composer's block?"   
  
"In other words, I can't write a damn note," Michiru scowled and threw a   
pillow at Haruka. Usagi realized that it must be bad if Michiru had been   
reduced to cursing and hurling projectiles through the air.   
  
Haruka easily caught the pillow and shook her head. "Maybe you're just   
not cut out for immortality, Michi."   
  
"With an attitude like that, *Ruka*," she hissed, "I probably won't ever   
write a note."   
  
"That's what you get for aiming to high," Haruka said smoothly. "What did   
the Greeks call it? Hubris $not sure here, but hubris definitely means that you're not SEEKING immortality, but BELIEVE you've already obtained it. Dunno if this is okay or not. Keep if you want, or change it$?"   
  
"So maybe trying to write an entire Requiem was a little ambitious, but   
your condescending remarks don't help me, Haruka!"   
  
"Re-kii-em?"   
  
Michiru and Haruka stopped arguing. "A death mass," Haruka explained   
flatly. "It's an old Catholic prayer that a bunch of composers have set to   
music. Mostly dead white guys."   
  
"That's morbid," Usagi said seriously, staring at Michiru.   
  
"No, it's not," Michiru sighed. "And that brings me back to the reason   
all this started. May I hear the song the locket plays?"   
  
Usagi reluctantly opened the locket, which played for the trio. Michiru   
was enraptured, Haruka was bored but a little curious, and Usagi just wanted the   
damn thing to shut up.   
  
"Ne, Usagi-chan, is the music upsetting you?" Haruka, for once, had lost   
her trademark sarcastic smirk and looked genuinely concerned for the little   
odango-haired girl.   
  
"I guess it is," Usagi admitted softly, closing the locket. "The music   
only plays for true lovers," she explained. "But now it's just mocking me."   
  
"It's beautiful," Michiru whispered excitedly.   
  
"My misery?" Usagi asked in confusion.   
  
"Not exactly," Haruka rolled her eyes.   
  
Michiru hurriedly sat down at the chestnut Steinway in the corner. With   
graceful motions, she began to play the locket's song. Yet as she went along,   
Usagi noticed the notes were somewhat changed, created a different, equally   
beautiful harmony, much poignant than the locket's. She stopped abruptly and   
starting writing eagerly on a blank page with several music bars printed on it,   
grinning wildly all the while.   
  
Haruka stared at her lover as if the girl had just grown a third eye.   
"That's sick, Michiru-san, and I'll bet Usagi-chan wouldn't appreciate it,   
either."   
  
"Baka," Michiru growled at her lover without even looking up, "it's not   
like I'm setting the words to the exact tune. It's just a starting point.   
Inspiration."   
  
"What is she doing?" Usagi asked Haruka nervously.   
  
"She's using your 'true love song' to write her Requiem."   
  
"MICHIRU!" Usagi screamed in horror. Michiru snapped to attention. "Stop   
it RIGHT NOW!"   
  
Michiru looked at the notes she'd scribbled. "Usagi-chan," she said   
quietly, very resolutely, "I want to make beautiful music. Shouldn't you be   
happy that your love inspires me to write?"   
  
"I-I guess . . ." Usagi conceded reluctantly.   
  
"If you were writing a 'Gloria' or something I'd be behind this one   
hundred percent," Haruka said icily, arms crossed in front of her chest, "but   
this is warped, Michiru. You're so intent on 'achieving immortality' that you'd   
actually take a symbol of Usagi's love and distort it like that..."   
  
"It's not like that," Michiru said quietly, wringing her hands. She   
looked up, her gaze watery. "Not like that at all."   
  
"Then what IS it, Michiru?" Haruka demanded. "You know I support your   
music, but neko-chan's song. . . ."   
  
Michiru smiled faintly and pulled a folder from a cabinet under her seat.   
"She used to compose the most beautiful music. . . ."   
  
"Who?" Haruka raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"   
  
"I'm breaking the code of silence."   
  
Usagi finally interjected with, "What code of silence?"   
  
Haruka hesitated. "We, ah, try not to talk about our lives before we   
met," she said slowly. "Painful memories. A lot of baggage and all. Michiru   
and I decided to leave our old lives behind . . . then again," Haruka smiled   
wistfully and stared out the window towards her car, "I guess it's not that   
simple."   
  
Ditzy as she may have been, Usagi understood things about her loved ones   
most people could barely fathom. She could sense the 'code of silence' had long   
since worn out its welcome.   
  
Michiru, meanwhile, opened at the folder and gazed bleakly at the papers,   
a sad smile lingering on her lips. Usagi looked over her shoulder to see bars   
of handwritten notes written in a handwriting that was similar but not exactly   
Michiru's. The lovely aqua-haired senshi took a pained breath and opened her   
mouth, but no words came out.   
  
The odango-haired blonde beamed. Usagi's smile was so bright it nearly   
blinded the older senshi. "You don't have to tell me," she whispered. "I can   
see how much this means to you now."   
  
"What?" Haruka stood up and stared at the pages. "Did I miss something?"   
  
Usagi placed the locket on top of the folder. "Make your music. And when   
you're all done with it, maybe then you'll be able to break the code of   
silence."   
  
Michiru looked at her with shining eyes. "I...I..."   
  
"Make your beautiful music," Usagi repeated. She looked at the   
clock. "It's getting late."   
  
--Flatly and excitedly-the change in Usagi's emotions is too quick and confuses me.   
  
"I'll give you a ride, neko-chan," Haruka said, leading Usagi out the   
door.   
  
The girl looked up one last time. "Usagi-chan?"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"You have no idea what this means to me."   
  
"You'd be surprised." Usagi winked and practically danced out the door.   
  
*********   
  
Haruka waited until she was about a mile away from the house to finally   
ask questions.   
  
"So why did you let her use the song?" she asked, staring out at the road.   
  
"Because she was writing the music for someone she loved."   
  
A slender neck snapped around. "Who?" she asked suspiciously.   
  
"Her mother."   
  
"Her . . . mother . . . but how did you . . . why would you. . . ."   
  
"I just knew," Usagi shrugged. Haruka let out a low whistle and turned   
back to the road.   
  
When they finally arrived at Usagi's house, the clouds had rolled out and   
the sky was pink as the last beams of sunlight faded away. Haruka opened   
Usagi's door and stared at the sunset.   
  
"It's pretty," Haruka said carefully, struggling to say what had been on   
her mind since she'd watched Usagi and Mamoru argue that afternoon.   
  
"Haruka-san...?"   
  
"Let me tell you something, Usa-chan," Haruka said seriously. "The sun   
sets, but it'll rise tomorrow morning. Things change. Nothing ever stays the   
same."   
  
She knew Haruka was talking about Usagi's relationship with Mamoru. "What   
do you mean, Haruka-san?"   
  
The girl got back into the car and started the ignition. "I guess what   
I'm trying to say," Haruka said slowly, "is that the only things that last   
forever are the things you can't see with your eyes or touch with your hands."   
  
And she drove off into the sunset.   
  
Something smiled in the darkness.   
  
**********   
  
Email: tennyo@home.com


	2. Dies Irae

Requiem for a Soldier  
Part II: Dies Irae (Day of Anger/Wrath/Ire [my personal preference is the latter,   
which would be the most literal of the three])  
Author: Ai   
Email: tennyo@home.com (the name of the game is repetition, people)  
  
What does it mean to live?  
  
The creature believed It lived. It had thoughts, It had memories--  
banished to the shadows, no doubt, but It was conscious. It remembered that   
beautiful dark glory, the swirling mass the Enemy called Metallia and It called  
God.  
  
The Creator. The Perfect Evil.  
  
So It did not breathe, or feel pain, or hurt or regret--at least not now.   
It simply waited, for a moment like this, to give Its God what She had so   
desperately craved. To bring forth the Ultimate Gift.  
  
Silence.  
  
*********  
  
There is something inane about a cheery backdrop when the characters on   
stage are in grim moods. This applies to life as well as drama; so that day the   
normally bright pastels and sweet checkered trim on everything from the menus to   
the napkins at the Crown Arcade seemed banal. Amidst the hackneyed beeps of the   
games and Unazuki's merry voice, the four Inners wanted to henshin and blow the   
place up.  
  
Motoki, ever the clairvoyant (or maybe simply behind a counter for too   
long), picked up on this pretty quickly. He stayed out the girls' way.  
  
And as for the girls in question...considering that they had faced some of   
the Universe's greatest evils, the relationship between one spacey, crybaby Moon   
Princess and her emotionally scarred, college-age boyfriend shouldn't have   
caused them so much concern.  
  
Hence Mako's suggestion involving love-me chains and flame snipers.  
  
"Bad idea," Ami had dismissed her.  
  
"Are you sure about that?" Rei asked, wanting to jump on the bandwagon   
just as badly. "Just think about it, Ami-chan...Usagi-chan would never come in   
here crying about what Mamoru-san did to her again. Think of your eardrums."  
  
"Absolutely NOT," Ami said forcefully. "I have no intentions of getting   
slapped with a billion-yen lawsuit. And where would we hide all the pieces?"  
  
"Oh, so if you weren't afraid of retribution in court you'd consider it?"   
Mako challenged. "Tell me it hasn't crossed your mind, Ami-chan. She won't even   
talk about their fight."  
  
"She's not wearing his ring anymore, either," Minako said quietly, staring   
into space.  
  
The girls paused. "Since when?" Makoto asked.  
  
"Since their argument," Minako replied, her gaze still distant. "I asked   
her about it. She said it didn't belong on her finger."  
  
"Well, with the way he's been treating her, I'm not surprised," Rei said   
emphatically. "What's the count up to now?"  
  
"Let's see." Ami opened up a little book and flipped to a page in the   
back. "He told Usagi-chan he was going to stay an extra year. He didn't call,   
or write, during that period. He wouldn't speak for more than two minutes when   
she called him. He came back five months early from Harvard and didn't even   
bother to tell her he was home--"  
  
"Wasn't that the day she walked in on him in when he was just getting out   
the shower?" Mako asked.  
  
"Mm-hmm," Ami said.  
  
"And the towel dropped?" Mako added.  
  
"Mm-hmm," Ami replied again, blushing furiously.  
  
"What I wouldn't have given to see that," Makoto said, smiling thoughtfully.  
  
"It's impressive," Rei said with a dreamy smile.'  
  
Minna stared at her. "Er, according to Usagi-chan, that is," Rei added   
abruptly.  
  
"Anyway," Ami continued, still staring at Rei, "then they had an argument.   
She called him seven times, all at times of the day when she knew he'd be   
there--"  
  
"Mamoru-san is a creature of habit," Rei said matter-of-factly.  
  
"--and he did not pick up once. She went down there; they had another   
argument. Went for about two weeks, then Mamoru-san apologized to her."  
  
"Will wonders never cease?" Makoto rolled her eyes. "Why do we keep a   
list, again?"  
  
"Because no one can keep their relationship status straight any other   
way," Rei scowled. "What's next? The dinner?"  
  
"Not the dinner. The Azabu Tech formal. The one he didn't invite her   
to."  
  
"Oh yeah," Rei said slowly. "But wasn't that some big alumni-searching-  
for-promising-young-minds type thing? I know my father's held a few of those."  
  
"I'll concede that," Ami said, "but I am of the personal opinion that it   
wasn't a nice thing to do."  
  
"And then the dinner?"  
  
"Then the dinner. That was two weeks ago. And she stopped wearing the   
ring. As far as I know, they haven't talked since."   
  
"You're forgetting a lot of things," Minako said, staring blandly at the   
carefully scripted page. "The dozen roses on her birthday last year. The roses   
at school when he apologized to her. And remember when she asked him if there   
was someone else? He freaked out. Strange as it may be, he honestly didn't   
think he'd given her a reason to believe that."  
  
"Are you defending him, Minako-chan?" Rei asked in surprise.  
  
"I'm suggesting that maybe we don't know the whole story."  
  
"Maybe Mamoru-san's a good actor," Mako offered cheerily.  
  
"Or maybe Mina-chan's right for once in her life," Rei replied coolly.   
"Erratic as his behavior has been, well, it's just that...erratic."  
  
Mina giggled.  
  
"Not EROTIC, hentai!" Rei scowled. "*Erratic*. Unpredictable." The   
senshi of Venus blushed appropriately.  
  
"So I guess it all comes down to what happened two weeks ago," Makoto   
said, eyeing the list. "Whatever happened that night must've really hit home   
for one of them. But if we go by Mina's theory that we're not giving him enough   
credit, then theoretically..."  
  
"Maybe she hurt him," Minako interrupted quietly.  
  
Again, Rei balked. "Do you know something, Mina-chan?"  
  
Minako gazed out the window. "Some loves are so strong you can reach out   
and touch them in your mind," she said softly, almost dangerously, "some loves   
pervade every last cell of a person. That's what Usagi-chan and Mamoru-san   
have, for better or for worse. But I sense a wall between the two--I think   
Mamoru-san put it up--but he's *hurting* himself in the process, minna-chan.   
It's eating him alive, and *still he won't let it fall*."  
  
The other senshi were silent. "It never occurred to me to think of it   
that way," Makoto said quietly. "I'm sorry, Mina-chan."  
  
"So are we," Ami and Rei chirped.  
  
"It's okay," Mina said, folding her hands on the table with a tiny,   
knowing smile. "Sometimes I forget I'm the only one who can sense these things.   
It goes along with being the senshi of Love. Now, the question is, what are we   
going to do about it?"  
  
*********  
  
When Usagi had given Michiru permission to use the Moonlight Denetsu to   
inspire her mother's death mass, she had been in a generous mood, had wanted to   
give Michiru whatever peace she would find in finishing her mother's work.  
  
Haruka, on the other hand, hadn't quite accepted the idea yet. The   
tomboyish blonde kept dropping hints towards her lover, desperately trying to   
get her to reconsider composing the piece. Michiru, on the other hand, refused   
to budge on the manner, even though Usagi now wondered if she'd acted too   
quickly in allowing Michiru the use of the song.  
  
To appease her, Michiru offered to let Usagi come over at any time and   
listen to what she had produced thus far. It was difficult to replicate,   
especially considering the fact it required an eight-part chorus, but Michiru   
used her computer to fill in the gaps. "In this day and age," Michiru had said   
proudly after playing the first movement for Usagi, "composing music has never   
been easier."  
  
And it was beautiful, which helped reassure Usagi. Having something   
besides school to think about kept her mind off Mamoru. It had been two weeks,   
and he hadn't called, hadn't tried to see her. She was about ready to give up   
on him. How many chances had he squandered now? Five? Ten? Haruka had   
comforted her with a compassion she hadn't known the older senshi could muster,   
but it wasn't enough. No matter what happened, what he did to her or even to   
himself, she was always going to love him, want only him, wasn't she?  
  
She stopped in her tracks. Could that really be what it might come to?   
That the love she had once welcomed with open arms could become little more than   
a gilded cage, a weapon against her rather than a blessing from above? Love now   
seemed an ugly thing, grotesque and fascinating all at once.  
  
In her naïveté, she had never considered this. Love indeed could be very   
beautiful and wonderful and all the like, but this...this horrific new light   
scared her; out of the blue, love seemed painful and not worth the suffering it   
caused. That love could become an element of her destruction rather than a   
blanket of safety.  
  
Suddenly the world seemed very cold and harsh. It was hard to believe in   
something that could be so cruel.   
  
The wind blew and she didn't notice.  
  
It grew dark. All around her shadows crept. Usagi trembled and started   
to fear. Her pace quickened in desperation. To get away, away from love,   
from...  
  
"Fear?"  
  
Something spoke, but she did not know what. The fear froze her to the   
ground while a boulder formed in her stomach.  
  
"So you fear, little one? I can smell it."  
  
Her breathing grew short as the fear crept through her.  
  
In her fear, she pressed the emergency button on her communicator and   
started to pray.  
  
The Shadow wrapped Itself around her, tangling her in a toxic mass of   
black cords. She whimpered in fear.  
  
"Pretty little girl," It cooed, "all alone in the shadows, afraid. She   
must have lost her way." Tears fell from Usagi's eyes. "A present for me,   
little one?" It may have been a tongue, for it was slick and wet; it wiped away   
her tears and sent a shiver down her spine. "I like the way it tastes."  
  
"P-please..." Usagi frantically tried to make her lips work but was   
failing. "Don't...h-h-hurt me..."  
  
"Why should I wish to hurt you, little girl? I like you. I like the   
taste of your fear."  
  
Usagi shook with fear. "Please..." her frightened mouth formed again,   
desperate and fearful.  
  
"Silly little girl...you fear me, not the other way around. Why should I   
fear you?"  
  
"Fear *this*, scum-sucker! Mars Flame Sniper!"  
  
In an instant, the darkness had spirited away from her and set off back to   
Its home. Usagi sank to the ground, quivering with relief.  
  
Jupiter and Venus rushed to their fallen Princess's side. "Sailormoon...  
you all right?"  
  
She nodded. "Usa," Venus said gently, "we're going after that thing. Are   
you ready to henshin?" Usagi nodded again and fumbled with her brooch.  
  
"Moon eternal...make up!" Now the fear had vanished, she was wrapped in   
the warmth of the ginzuishou--where she belonged.  
  
"You got anything, Mercury-chan?" Jupiter called.  
  
"Just a moment...I'm pinpointing its location...oh, God damn it all."  
  
"What? What happened?" Mars snapped to attention.  
  
"According to my computer, it slinked down the pothole."  
  
"You mean it's--" Venus's eyes widened.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And we have to--"  
  
"It's better not to say it out loud," Jupiter said while trying not to   
gag. "Buck up, minna. The sooner we're down there, the sooner we catch it.   
Let's go."  
  
So the senshi opened the pothole and each jumped down, requesting that   
Sailormoon follow them using the signal from her communicator.  
  
Down in the dank pit, meanwhile, the senshi were having very little luck.  
  
"Hold me," Venus groaned. "I think I'm going to pass out."  
  
"If you faint here," Mars hissed, "No one's carrying you back. You'll die   
in a sewer and they'll never get the smell out of your hair. Now come on!"  
  
The girls breathed heavily through their mouths and waded through knee-  
deep filth, stopping only to step around the occasional rat's nest and remove   
cobwebs from hair. Mercury concentrated on tracking the demon, while Mars   
whispered directions into the communicator.  
  
Back on the top, Eternal Sailormoon, who was a little drained from her   
encounter with the Shadow, flew five stories above the streets, avoid excessive   
traffic and attracting surprisingly little attention. When she received the   
signal, she flew back down, and waited in an abandoned plaza where the senshi   
hoped to force the Shadow to surface.  
  
With great effort, she lifted the pothole cover and waited impatiently,   
wondering what was taking the girls so long--until she felt the same cold fear   
creep in her veins again.  
  
"Miss me?" a voice whispered, slinking back around her.  
  
Sailormoon started to cry. "You-you're supposed to be underground," she   
sobbed softly, as if this would keep It at bay.  
  
"Poor little girl. I am with your friends yet. I am everywhere...even   
inside your bones."  
  
"N-no," she protested as It started to drain her. She could feel herself   
slipping, falling headfirst into the abyss...  
  
The red abyss...  
  
The one with the thorns.  
  
Eternal Sailormoon opened her eyes and realized there was a rose at her   
feet.  
  
Tuxedo Kamen stepped forward, beads of sweat slipping down his forehead.   
With shaky steps, he approached her and reached out a hand.  
  
"Are you all right?" he whispered hoarsely, releasing a dry sob.  
  
To his surprise, she smiled and nodded. "You're here," she answered   
softly, putting her hand to his face.  
  
He took the slender hand in his own and caressed it, delicately kissing   
each white-gloved finger. Sailormoon was a little taken aback at his sudden   
change of heart, but she did not complain, either. After all, wasn't this what   
she had longed for since he'd returned?  
  
"I was scared," Tuxedo Kamen whispered in her ear. "I could feel your   
fear."  
  
"That makes three of us," Sailormoon muttered under her breath. Oddly   
enough, Tuxedo Kamen didn't ask her to explicate.  
  
"GYAAH!!! WHAT IS THAT?!?!"  
  
"It's a rat's nest, Venus-chan."  
  
"Oops." A giggle. "Sorry."  
  
"Only those four..." In her infinite relief, Sailormoon was ready to   
lambaste her fellow senshi.  
  
Tuxedo Kamen, on the other hand, only held onto her more tightly.  
  
Within a minute, however, Sailormoon and Tuxedo Kamen heard the girls   
scream, then jump out of another pothole not a hundred yards away. Venus was   
muttering something about being held while Mars muttered at her.  
  
"There it is! Get it!"  
  
"I don't see anything!"  
  
"You idiots! IT'S RIGHT THERE!"  
  
"Submarine reflection!"  
  
The attack hit dead on, and the Wraith began screaming in pain.  
  
Sailormoon, Tuxedo Kamen, and the Inners looked over where Uranus and   
Neptune stood smugly. Neptune was holding her mirror.  
  
"How did you..." Mars had her jaw dropped.  
  
Neptune proudly held up the mirror. "The mirror reflects truth. You   
could only tell by finding the reflection." The younger senshi were awed.  
  
"Are we going to sit here and let this thing wreak havoc on Tokyo or are   
we going to do something about it?" Uranus demanded, snapping the others out of   
their stupor.  
  
"Right!" Mercury declared. She pulled out her visor and did some quick   
calculations. "If we can't see the enemy unless with my computer--and I   
wouldn't rely on it for accuracy--or Neptune-san's mirror, we'll have to try a   
new technique. Neptune-san?"  
  
The aqua-haired senshi leapt to where Mercury stood. Mercury, meanwhile,   
furiously typing with her right hand all the while, used her left hand to wrap a   
small wire around the base of the mirror. The sound of screeching gears was   
heard while the ground began to glow a soft blue, and faint tendrils of cyan   
pervaded the air. At their nexus was a brilliant creature, which appeared to be   
the Wraith in question.  
  
"What in God's name did you DO?!" Venus squeaked, staring at the   
apparition.  
  
"I projected Neptune-san's mirror onto the ground for a mile radius,"   
Mercury explained. "The effect will only last about ten minutes before the   
computer will crash. By the time I restart the program, this thing can escape.   
Now hurry up!"  
  
"That's plenty of time," Uranus said, cracking her knuckles. "World   
Shaking!" In a flash of fire and fury, the ground trembled and the senshi were   
knocked from under their feet. Tuxedo Kamen, in a moment of sheer   
gracelessness, dropped the handful of Moon senshi he'd been holding. She went   
tumbling to the ground, landing near the tree.  
  
"Hime-sama!" Neptune, grounded by the power of her mirror (and being very   
used to her lover's turbulent attack) was the first to rush to the little   
senshi's aid.  
  
"My head..." Sailormoon groped the ground, trying to focus on something.   
The vague sounds of the Moonlight Denetsu wafted up to her ears. She reached   
out at the same time Neptune did and found the cool, soft metal of the trinket   
and amulet they now both drew inspiration from.  
  
Now the Wraith, who was ethereal and had little to fear from such earthy   
power, was nonetheless pissed. And that stupid tinkly music wasn't helping It   
either. But It realized its cover was blown, and, in its fury, send tendrils of   
electric power into the metal object.  
  
Neptune and Moon screamed in agony, but, to their despair, found that they   
could not let go of the locket. Tuxedo Kamen was the first to react, and, with   
the furious wrench, tried to pry Sailormoon from the locket, but soon realized   
he was trapped by the hellfire as well. His moans mingled with theirs.  
  
As for the other senshi, they quickly realized what would happen if they   
tried a similar stunt.   
  
"Mars! Try your anti-spirit charm!" Mercury cried, working frantically to   
keep the system going even while Neptune was distracted by the searing pain   
going through her.  
  
"Akuryo taisan!" The charm flew, and, sure enough, disrupted the Wraith,   
but instead of weakening the creature, the Wraith focused even *more* power into   
the attack, in the hopes of staying focused.  
  
So it seemed Mettalia would have her Silence.  
  
And then...even a shadow can fear the dark. The depths of Hell are   
infinite and eternal. As this new, frightening darkness crept into Its   
consciousness, It knew It would not survive.  
  
In a final flash, the Wraith forced the entirety of Its power into the   
link.  
  
"You will not destroy me, senshi! I am the Black Fear that rests in the   
hearts of Men!"  
  
"Silence..."  
  
"I am the Corruptor, the One who brings forth the Blackest Truth hidden   
within the depths! I am a Messenger of God!"  
  
"Glaive..."  
  
"And you will not escape, you who *murdered* God Herself! The song you   
hold in your heart will be your death march!"  
  
"SURPRISE!!!"  
  
And then there was Silence.  
  
The senshi opened their eyes, still feeling hazy. Coils of smoke flew up   
to their noses; the scent of burning spirit was everywhere. In the center of   
the road was a great smoking crater.  
  
Before them stood a tiny senshi, eyes cold but proud, holding an equally   
smoky glaive.  
  
"Saturn-chan!" In a rather out of character moment for her, the delighted   
Uranus went to the girl, wrapping her arms around her lightly.  
  
Saturn placed her hand where Uranus clasped her breast, but other than   
that made no move to acknowledge Uranus. Cold, empty eyes stared at the hole.   
"Power is so easily abused," she murmured uninterestedly.  
  
"You did it," Mars whispered. "You saved them."  
  
"I have saved nothing." Saturn pulled away from Uranus. "We will see   
this creature again. I can only hope my power will be of service to hime-sama."  
  
That's when Uranus remembered. "Michiru!" she cried, running to her   
lover's limp form. Uranus rolled the girl, who was still clutching the locket,   
over and shook her slightly. "Michiru?" she whispered expectantly. "Are you   
alive?" The tomboyish senshi looked to be near tears.  
  
Before Uranus could crack, however, Neptune opened her deep blue eyes and   
offered a small smile to her beloved. "How's the locket?" she whispered, eyes   
half lidded.  
  
Uranus scowled but was secretly mirthful. "Always thinking of   
immortality, are we?" She lifted the Ocean senshi into her arms. "You have   
years yet for that."  
  
"I should hope so," Neptune murmured. Uranus lightly kissed her forehead   
and brushed the only strand of hair that had ever been out of place on Michiru's   
head in the history of the world back into place.  
  
The Inners, meanwhile, were helping a dazed Sailormoon up. Tuxedo Kamen   
was still unconscious, but Mercury had unwound the Neptune mirror and was now   
checking him for injuries.  
  
Sailormoon, with some help from Rei, limped over to Saturn's icy form.   
Smiling, she placed a torn-gloved hand on the girl's head.  
  
Instantly, Saturn knelt down, took the hand, and kissed a spot where the   
edge of the index finger was jet-black in color. Sailormoon shuddered when she   
did this, but it was barely noticeable.  
  
"How can we thank you?" Sailormoon whispered, tears in her eyes.  
  
"Always for you, hime-sama," Saturn whispered back, head still down. Two   
shining droplets fell. "I have failed you now. But I will not fail again."  
  
"No..."  
  
"I have failed you," Saturn said more persistently. "The Black Truth now   
resides in your Heart."  
  
Oddly enough, Sailormoon dismissed the comment, as did most of the others.   
Only Uranus seemed troubled.  
  
"Usa...Usa-ko..."  
  
She was spun around and kissed more forcefully than she ever thought   
possible. Tuxedo Kamen's lips were on hers, warm and wet and desperate.   
"You..." he gasped, unable to keep his lips off her for long. His tears fell on   
her cheeks unashamedly. "I thought you..."  
  
Sailormoon responded just as violently, knocking off the hat and winding   
her fingers through his hair. "Never," she murmured. "I'll never--"  
  
"I--thought you--were--"  
  
"I--thought-"  
  
"Well somebody must've thought something," Jupiter quipped. "Anyone got   
popcorn?"  
  
"This is too interesting for concessions," Mars replied, eyes glued to the   
frenetic couple.  
  
"Is this making you horny?" Uranus whispered to Neptune.   
  
Neptune slapped her.  
  
Five minutes passed.  
  
"Um, are they going stop any time soon?" someone suddenly asked.  
  
"Apparently not--oh, that's crossing a line."  
  
"I think we learned about this in health class," Saturn commented.  
  
"Do they not realize that they're in public?"  
  
"Oh, dearie me, someone better pull them apart before they start going at   
it like rabbits."  
  
"Very funny, Jupiter."  
  
"HEY! STOP THAT! YOU SICK LITTLE MONKEYS!!! THERE ARE CHILDREN   
PRESENT!!!"  
  
Tuxedo Kamen and Sailormoon looked at their court, all of whom were paying   
rapt attention to their predicament.  
  
Tuxedo Kamen looked at his lover.  
  
He looked at the senshi.  
  
He looked at his lover again.  
  
"Oh, to hell with it," he muttered. In one fell swoop, he picked up   
Eternal Sailormoon, wings and everything, darted onto a building, and vanished   
into the night.  
  
The senshi gaped.  
  
*********  
  
And that's where I'm ending it, bad girl that I am...but I'm already hard at   
work on Chapter III. I promise.  
  
Comments, complaints, and criticisms can be sent to:  
tennyo@home.com (what did I say about repetition?)  
  
  
  



	3. Offertorio (Domine Jesu)

"It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and   
love be not the same thing at bottom. Each, in its utmost development,   
supposes a high degree of intimacy and heart-knowledge; each renders one   
individual dependent for the food of his affections and spiritual life   
upon another; each leaves the passionate lover, or the no less passionate   
hater, forlorn and desolate by the withdrawal of his subject.   
Philosophically considered, therefore, the two passions seem essentially   
the same, except that one happens to be seen in a celestial radiance,   
the other in a dusky and lurid glow."   
  
--Nathaniel Hawthorne, "The Scarlet Letter"  
  
  
Requiem for a Soldier  
Part III: Offertorio (Domine Jesu)  
Author: Ai  
E-mail: tennyo@attbi.com  
  
  
There is a reason the senshi come in fours.  
  
Because beyond the cosmic and capricious there is something that ties   
us all together. Be it dark or light, we are nonetheless bound. The   
human, at least the one we know to live, and to breathe, is composed of   
four parts: the body, with its strength and earthly insubstantiality,   
the mind, the intellect that carefully organized the world, and the   
heart, which transcended the mind's neat little categories and wrought   
something upon this world that could not be found any other way.  
  
The fourth part is not forgotten. The soul, the breath of life, the   
meaning of being alive. All these parts were linked together by cords   
of empyreal fire, with cords from the blackest abyss. A soul is a   
spirit. A spirit is a shadow.  
  
A shadow is a Wraith.  
  
And now the three who had suffered from Its attack were Its life; they   
breathed for It, they thought for It, they felt for It.   
  
There was only one choice now for the Wraith.  
  
To die.   
  
In this day and age, it was no wonder that a Senshi of Destruction   
could be brought to fear Death.   
  
In this day and age, it was a wonder that anyone would still breathe.   
  
********  
  
She lay wrapped in ecstasy.  
  
There had been nothing sweet or gentle about this, this, this maddening   
possession, this lusty desperation. No sweet, gentle words of love, no   
soft kisses, no tender caresses.  
  
This was not a communion of souls.  
  
This was not two becoming one.  
  
This was pure animal.  
  
And even as he slept, she wondered, he still held her like captured   
prey. Not that she minded; there was something rather amatory about the   
inhumane. It was different, and in her mind and all its new ideas of a   
crude, ugly love she took this lesson to heart. There was something   
dangerous about this bestial vehemence, but she dared to open herself   
up to it, because only at our basest can we feel so extremely.  
  
When Mamoru had brought her back to her apartment, frightened and   
fraught, he had exposed a side of himself she had never seen before:   
his lust. A lways he had stayed away from this, denied he felt anything   
of the sort. Tempered kisses were all he had allowed himself.  
  
So it was no wonder that in his fear, he clung to her so madly. Fear   
makes people do strange things. Their lovemaking--if it could be called   
that--was equally odd. Mamoru had spent so long planning and   
preparing that moment, only to squander it brilliantly. He had   
intended lighted candles and red roses, not shameless debauchery. But   
such is the way of love.  
  
With a knowing smile, Usagi stared out the window at the moon. Even if   
she were to wake up and find out this had all been a dream, she would   
be better--maybe worse--for it.   
  
For the first time in her life, she knew what it meant to really love   
another.  
  
********  
  
But reality came in with the dawn.  
  
She opened her eyes and found him to be still sleeping. Managing to   
pull away from his vise-like embrace, her eyes trailed over his naked   
form, taking in the sight in the light of the sun. In his sleep, he   
was young, unguarded, without the hard lines and inaccessibly cold   
eyes, without the years of harsh solitude. And yet in all his delicacy   
there was still something dark, dangerous about him, like a jaguar   
waiting to pounce. Back when she had fallen for him, she had been an   
innocent, had not understood the treacherous beauty that lay deep   
within the man. Now she knew she would die if she did not know more.  
  
Unable to resist, she reached out and went to trace the subtle curve of   
his jaw. But as she placed her fingers on his cheek, his eyes   
fluttered open.  
  
And in an instant, all the dark beauty and dangerous power was gone.   
He was the Mamoru she had always known and once believed to be the only   
one there was. Usagi bit her lip and blinked back tears.  
  
Mamoru, meanwhile, stared at Usagi's nude form, slowly realizing what   
he (they, really--but he hadn't consciously acknowledged that) had done   
last night. He scrambled out of the bed, darting away from her   
luscious body. Maybe he was scared of himself, or of her, but no matter   
what, it was fear that drove him now.  
  
"Get out," he whispered, almost threatening, almost pleading, not quite   
either.  
  
The dam burst. Usagi sat up, snatching up her strewn jeans and underwear,   
and let the water roll down. "I don't understand," she   
confessed, "but I want to."   
  
"You can't. Now just go."   
  
"Do you love me?"   
  
"Love. . . ." He sat down next to her and placed her hand on his   
heart. The beat seemed irregular somehow, unnatural. "Love is such a   
weak word," he whispered in her ear. "Love is for children. You are a   
child. And that's why you must leave me now."   
  
"You're wrong," Usagi said, slapping him away. She turned and grabbed one   
of his shirts, buttoning it to the very top. "Maybe love is a weak   
word," she conceded, "but *I am not a child anymore*." He of all   
people should have known that!  
  
"I'm weak," he whispered.  
  
"No you're NOT!" she cried wildly. "You're my strength. You keep me   
going. There have been so many times I couldn't have gone on if you   
hadn't been with me."   
  
Usagi started to cry right there and then. Cursing softly, Mamoru   
wrapped his arm around her, gripping her tightly, comforting himself   
more than her. She grew eerily silent. Mamoru lifted her chin with   
his other hand, trying to force her to look at him, but she kept her   
gaze down.  
  
"Then again," she murmured, still not looking up at him, "we are what   
we believe." She laughed bitterly. "I think Minako-chan said that   
once. Ami-chan yelled at her . . . but she was RIGHT, Mamo-chan . . .   
Endymion! She was right. Because I am not a child. And I don't want a   
weak lover."   
  
And with that, she ran out of the bedroom and to the door.  
  
But just as she was about to leave her sordid prison, Mamoru grabbed   
her back and fiercely pressed his lips against hers. Usagi tangled her   
fingers furiously in his hair, he slipped a hand under her shirt and on   
her breast, fondled it roughly; she could feel his desire on every   
level, far above and below the physical evidence presented forthwith.   
Felt it, because she was just the same as he.  
  
But he pulled away and shut himself behind steel bars. The cage, warm,   
inviting . . . home. Tame.  
  
"You forgot this," he muttered, not looking her in the eye. Mamoru   
roughly pushed a cold metal object into her hands and grabbed the   
blanket back up.   
  
The star locket. Usagi bit back a laugh.  
  
"I hate you," she said, her clear eyes piercing his cloudy ones.  
  
"And I love you more than anything."   
  
She ran.   
  
********  
  
Amidst the wretched searing of her heart, she ran, and, until she was   
out of breath and forced to stop, felt someone watching her. Mamoru,   
perhaps?  
  
"Shimatta," Usagi muttered, wrapping her arms around her to keep out   
the crispness of the early hour. In the abandoned area, she felt--was--  
painfully vulnerable. It was lucky that at this time of morning on   
Sundays, the area wasn't heavily populated yet. She smacked her head,   
wondering at her own idiocy. But pride prevented her from turning   
back to face him, despite the fact she had also left her henshin brooch   
in his apartment, and going home wearing a man's shirt after being out   
all night was out of the question. She wondered what her father would   
have done to her after her mother had gutted her and left her body in   
the river. Usagi cursed again, louder this time, angry with herself   
and him.  
  
"Swearing really is unbecoming, miss."   
  
For a moment, her heart clenched and she thought that the Wraith was   
back. But the voice was male, young, friendly even. She turned to see   
an attractive boy about her age she thought she'd seen around Mamoru's   
apartment. His family lived a floor below Mamoru, didn't they?  
  
"Sorry," Usagi said sheepishly. She eyed him warily. "What are you   
doing up so early?" she asked, stepping away.  
  
"I didn't get much sleep," he said, eyeing Usagi. "Seems like you had   
a good time with your boyfriend last night."   
  
"I did," Usagi said, backing away. The boy--who, Usagi was beginning   
to recognize, was over a foot taller than she was--stepped forward a   
bit. "That sounded like a nasty argument," he added, trying to be   
comforting.   
  
She looked at him: the pale, marble skin, the glossy raven tendrils   
that seemed so stark against the pallor of his cheek, and the blue-  
violet eyes with their harsh, unearthly light. The eyes seemed . . .   
flat. Dead, almost. She couldn't put her finger on what bothered her,   
but something certainly did.  
  
"Look, ah, I really need to get home," Usagi said lamely. But as she   
stepped away, *he* came forward.   
  
"You're not that pretty, you know," he said, brushing a lock of hair   
away from her face. "You should be thankful a man like that takes   
interest in you."   
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Usagi offered weakly.  
  
Hands clamped around her wrists. "But still . . . I think I'd like to   
find out what your boyfriend was moaning about last night," he   
murmured. "Kiss me, will you?"  
  
Usagi whimpered and shook her head, but he squeezed the fragile joints,   
clearly enjoying the pain he wrought. "Now," he murmured, smiling   
softly, "kiss me."   
  
This time, Usagi obliged. She gave him a peck on the lips.  
  
"Pretty or not, there's something about you," he said to her, never   
loosening his grip, "I've been thinking about you for a long time. A   
very long time. You torture my spirit . . . all of your lovely fire   
and vinegar . . . "   
  
"Torture your spirit?" Usagi choked.  
  
"Yes," he breathed wickedly. "I've wanted to break you since you first   
walked into my building, Tsukino Usagi. But you were always too busy   
with that college student. He makes you cry, doesn't he? I hear you   
cry. It's delicious. I've wanted to be the one to make you cry for so   
long."   
  
"We argue," Usagi said frantically, "I cry a lot. Please, let me go.   
I need to go home."   
  
"You're still upset, Usagi-chan. I want to see your suffering."   
  
"Please, just--"   
  
"No!" A hand came across her cheek. "LET ME, damn it! Do you KNOW   
what's it's like, to spend night after night TORMENTED by visions of   
your smile, the sound of your voice? I will MAKE you understand,   
Usagi--I will break you like a twig over my knee!"   
  
He pushed her down roughly and laid himself on top, ignoring her   
sobbing pleas. The boy--who was sick, and really had no idea what he   
was doing--put his lips to her collarbone and whispered, "That's a good   
girl," he encouraged her, licking the tears away. "Cry for me, you   
little whore."   
  
Though she tried to choke her tears back, the sobs kept coming. The   
boy continued to torture her, smiling all the while.   
  
And then . . . nothing.  
  
Within a second, he was off her. The boy was roughly jerked around in   
the hands of the mysterious new assailant.  
  
Frozen terror evaporated. Usagi sobbed aloud, urgently gulping in   
fresh air. Gleaming golden hands sucked life from the insane child;   
eyes like steel and the skies over the frozen plains of Hell bore into   
the psychotic cretin.  
  
"NO!" A million thoughts flew through her mind at rapid speed all at   
once: now this, now that . . . coherence was not an option. There was   
simply no time for it.  
  
The sickening crack sounded through the silent park; a lifeless mass of   
cells sank to the ground.  
  
Mamoru was staring at his work in fear, wonder, and undisguised   
fascination. He looked at Usagi through dim eyes.  
  
"You . . . you. . . ."   
  
"Anything for you," he said hoarsely, his voice raw with shame and a   
strange, almost perverse, pleasure. "Do you understand why you have to   
go?"   
  
With a wrenching gasp, she nodded, turned, grabbed her locket, and ran.  
  
Mamoru ran too, back to his apartment and his cage. Wiping at his eyes,   
he sank into the bed, buried himself under the covers, and did   
not move for a very long time.  
  
********  
  
When again she could run no more, Usagi found herself by the beach.   
Stepping lightly on the soft sands of the abandoned stretch, she sped   
up, ran again, until she fell by the sea and started to sob loudly.  
  
It was uncertain when exactly Haruka and Michiru crept up behind her,   
but suddenly they were there and she was being lifted, cuddled like a   
child and carried up to their cottage by the sea. Michiru kept her   
eyes on the locket she had picked up, the one next to the petite,   
broken woman.  
  
Usagi sobbed into Haruka's chest while the older girl whispered words   
of love and comfort into her ears, cradling her gently. Cold sunshine   
beamed down on the two women and the Princess they would have traded   
their lives to spare such pain. But both knew such a sacrifice would be   
for naught. Some things were to be endured.  
  
Haruka put her down on a little bench in the garden under a small   
crabapple tree. It was fall, and though the maple trees bled, the roses   
were in full bloom and many of the trees were bearing fruit.  
  
"Did you mean for us to find you, neko-chan?" Haruka asked, lightly   
stroking Usagi's hair. Michiru stood away from them, fidgeting with   
the locket in her hands.  
  
"No," she admitted. "I just ran."   
  
"Instinct." Michiru gently placed the locket in Usagi's hand and   
folded the younger woman's fingers around it. "Will you tell us what   
happened?"   
  
Usagi took a deep breath. "I slept with him," she began in an oddly   
calm voice.   
  
"Obviously. You wear men's shirts quite well, by the way."  
  
Usagi blushed furiously. "I needed to leave," she said through   
clenched teeth. "He told me to go. We argued, and I ran out. Then . . .   
this boy . . . someone from Mamo-chan's apartment complex followed me   
out. He . . . well, you know."   
  
Haruka's mouth was set in a thin, hard line, and Michiru had an almost   
dangerous quality about her. "He raped you," Haruka's face contorted   
and her voice seethed.  
  
"I almost wish he had," Usagi sobbed softly. "Mamo-chan . . . Endymion . . .   
he came. He . . . oh Gods, Haruka-chan, he broke that boy's neck!"   
Usagi wept into Haruka, averring her despair.  
  
"Shh . . . Usagi-chan, it's okay. . . ." Haruka turned wild eyes to   
her lover. "What in the hell did he DO?!" she mouthed to Michiru.  
  
Michiru just stared at the two in horror. Blinking, and trying to   
recover from the shock of hearing that Mamoru had taken a life, though   
it had been a crime of passion, she could shrugged helplessly at her   
partner.  
  
"And his hands . . . they were *glowing* . . . he *enjoyed* it, Haruka-  
tachi, you could see it on his face . . . he *wanted* that boy to die!"   
  
"Please excuse me, Usagi-chan," Haruka said sharply. Haruka stood up   
and dragged Michiru to another corner of the garden.   
  
"I can't believe it," Michiru said. "This is so antithetical of   
Mamoru-san . . . I mean, maybe he's a little warped, but I've never   
known him to be *violent*."   
  
"I know," Haruka agreed, "but I also did a little checking around. I   
talked to Makoto-chan last night. She said that Mamoru-san has been   
acting strangely. Ami-chan is going to mail me a list of his recent   
sins later."   
  
"They keep a list. Michiru was stunned.  
  
"You have to give them credits for taking definitive steps to keep   
their relationship straight," Haruka countered with a dry expression.   
"It's worse than filing tax returns."   
  
"True," Michiru conceded, "but still . . . don't you think. . . ."   
  
"I'd rather not," Haruka said hotly. "Because I have a feeling I'm not   
going to like my conclusion. Yes, this is highly unusual for Mamoru-  
san, but remember that just last night he was terrified for her life.   
He loves her, if anything at all."   
  
"Does love even mean anything any more?" Michiru gazed straight   
through Haruka, her eyes clouded.  
  
Haruka stilled. "I don't understand," she said quietly, focusing a   
muted gaze on her lover. "What does that mean?" She sounded almost   
hurt.  
  
Michiru snapped lightly, looked at Haruka, and shook her head slightly.   
"I'm going inside. Stay with Usagi-chan, will you?" Michiru vanished   
through the doors.   
  
When Haruka returned, she found Usagi listening to the small tune of   
the star locket, staring dimly at the shiny red stone in the middle.   
Haruka was beginning to hate that song.  
  
"Neko-chan?"   
  
Usagi looked up. "Is love childish?" she asked, staring straight at   
Haruka.  
  
"Depends," Haruka said very seriously. "Some kinds of love are. Love   
destroys the weak. It takes a strong person to really love another."   
Haruka focused on the locket. "Who told you that love was childish?"   
  
"Who do you think?" she intoned, trying not to cry.  
  
"Maybe he's weak."   
  
"He's NOT," Usagi said firmly. "He's just . . . scared."   
  
"Fear can be a weakness," Haruka said coolly. "Fear can lead to   
cowardice. You shouldn't tolerate it."   
  
"I can't help it, Haruka-san. I love him too much. Even now, I love   
him more than ever."   
  
"Then I can't help you, Hime-sama."   
  
Misty eyes turned towards the sea. Haruka stood staring at the small   
figure that clutched the blanket as if it were some sort of warding   
charm. As if she could hold off the world with the power of a blanket   
and a tune.  
  
"Usagi-chan?"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I have something you may like to hear." Michiru held out her laptop   
and pressed 'play' on her recorder.   
  
Soft strains came from the weak speakers, hard to hear over the sounds   
of the sea but nonetheless a presence.  
  
"The Requiem?" she whispered excitedly.  
  
"Of course," Michiru beamed.  
  
Usagi listened to the soft Latin words with a thoughtful ear and a   
simple gaze. "It's pretty," she decided, "and I can hear where you   
used my song."   
  
"It's not done yet," Michiru said. "This is the fourth movement, and   
it needs a lot of work. I started in the middle. This particular   
movement is called the 'Offertorio.'"   
  
"Neat," she murmured.   
  
Haruka was fidgeting.  
  
An instrumental part began playing, and Usagi's dreamy expression   
gradually faded. "So beautiful," she murmured. "And to think I   
doubted you, Michiru-san. You're making beautiful music."   
  
Haruka crossed her arms and scowled at the ocean.  
  
Michiru however, smiled at the blonde woman. For her, Usagi's faith   
was the greatest compliment she could receive.  
  
For a while, they sat listening to the bridge, with Haruka squirming   
all the while. Neither Michiru nor Usagi paid her much heed.  
  
When the chorus came back on, Usagi's gaze focused on the locket again.  
  
"Michiru. . . ."   
  
"Yes, Usagi-chan?"   
  
"Here."   
  
The stone in the locket gleamed like fresh blood in the sun but neither   
flinched or seemed afraid. As the tune mingled with the sound of   
Michiru's work, Haruka shot a glance at her lover.  
  
In Usagi's hand was the locket, the ultimate gift that the girl could   
give.   
  
"I can't . . . I shouldn't. . . ."   
  
"Please, Michiru-san." Usagi looked at the ground. "I feel like my   
heart's all smashed up inside my chest," she murmured. "And I don't   
know why, but giving this to you makes it hurt less."   
  
Usagi stood up and reached out, holding the locket with its gleaming   
red stone and soft melody.   
  
"Don't take it, Michiru," Haruka warned sharply. "You've done enough   
damage with the song already. The locket is too much!"   
  
"I. . . ." How badly she longed to reach out and grab it, the lovely   
charm, with its secret tune that only *she* could truly hear! Michiru   
stood, staring beseechingly at her lover to comprehend what it meant to   
her, this gift of gifts, this ambrosial offering!   
  
Usagi's eyes were humble and devoid of anything but compassion.  
  
She took it.  
  
Haruka was seething. "Michiru," she whispered icily, "I expected   
better of you."   
  
"Haruka, please try to understand . . . " Michiru pleaded piteously,   
but to no avail.   
  
"I understand that you have let your impetus overtake your good   
judgment," Haruka replied coldly.  
  
In an instant, the locket was in Usagi's hands again, and Michiru had   
stepped away, fiercely wiping at her eyes.  
  
"Don't bother," Haruka sneered. "The damage is already done. You may   
as well keep it."   
  
Foolishly Michiru grabbed the star locket back, holding it as if it   
were her firstborn. But Haruka's glares were not lost on her; she kept   
her eyes down, away from the locket and the derisive lover.  
  
"Come, neko-chan . . . I'll drive you home." Haruka gently led Usagi,   
who was a little stunned at Haruka's reaction to the gift, away from   
Michiru.  
  
When she came back to grab the keys she had left on the bench in the   
garden, Michiru was listening to the locket intently, her gaze distant.  
  
"Don't smash it up, Michiru," Haruka whispered harshly. "I'm watching   
you."   
  
Michiru looked genuinely surprised. "I'd never let anything happen to   
the locket. It's precious to Usagi-chan."   
  
"I didn't mean the locket." Haruka left her lover to ponder that in   
the garden.  
  
******** 


	4. Sanctus

Now this, THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is   
something I suspect will be more pleasing to those rabid   
packs of wolves I've been forcing back with a stick.  
  
(That means you, Kii.)  
  
It's a VERY revised version of "Sanctus." And   
just "Sanctus." Due to the bulk of the two chapters,   
I'm dividing them up. "Sanctus" will not end at the   
same spot as before, you'll have to wait   
for "Benedictus" until we get back up to speed.   
Afterwards, all y'all can digest and then get "Agnus   
Dei."  
  
Ai-ko's been busy a busy little author lately,   
people, so hopefully she'll stop obsessing and put one   
of the five or six other projects in the works done,   
especially if she can stop playing spirit monkey.   
*Sighs* You people . . . don't know what a spirit   
monkey is . . . tsk tsk.  
  
Remember, VERY R. Keep out, little ones!  
  
Disclaimer: Sailormoon does not belong to me,   
but I do own a bunch of manga I can't read, a   
decrepit '89 Volvo 740 GLE, and a hyperactive   
personality. I sell it to you--cheap!  
  
Requiem for a Soldier: Sanctus [4a/7]  
Author: Ai  
E-mail: tennyo@attbi.com (NEW ADDRESS!!!!)  
  
  
  
  
He couldn't sleep these days.  
  
But then again Chiba Mamoru wasn't sold on sleep   
being a good thing. Sleep had, at times, been his only   
friend and his cruelest enemy; after too many years of   
being soothed and tormented incessantly by one or the   
other he couldn't really make a real decision.  
  
A decision would have been nice.  
  
He'd wanted to protect her. He wanted   
everything for her. She didn't need him, didn't need   
this hanging over her head. But at the same time he   
didn't want to cut her off completely. Maybe it was   
selfish of him, but he still loved her and believed he   
could sort his messy emotions out quietly, away from her   
prying eyes, and reemerge with a clear mind and a firm   
purpose.  
  
Now he was sitting on his bed, staring vacuously   
at the three-quarter-moon hanging lowly in the sky. The   
night air was chilly and a bit daunting but he still had   
his window open. It cleared his head and eyes.   
Everything seemed hazy and unfocused recently, which   
made it impossible to concentrate on anything, even the   
simplest of tasks.  
  
Mamoru closed his eyes and slid down into the   
bed. For all the bone-deep weariness plaguing him, it   
was still better to be awake. When he was awake, he   
could shut out the pain. When he was awake he could   
control his--  
  
*Fear?*  
  
A tiny voice inside him suddenly spoke up. Fear   
was a good word for it. It was easier to live like   
this, sorrowful and constantly aching, than it was to   
sleep and risk far greater anguish in a realm he could   
not control.  
  
*Poor thing. You must be exhausted.*  
  
At another time Mamoru would have questioned   
this new line of commentary from his inner monologue,   
but right now he was too confused and lost to want to.   
He was lonely. Strange what friends we find inside our   
minds. Sympathy was nice.  
  
*Staying awake is not the answer. Sooner or   
later you'll have to face the facts, and when you do,   
being so hazy will hurt you.*  
  
A good point, no doubt, but he was still wary.   
He had a hard enough time trusting anyone else; how was   
he expected to trust himself?  
  
*It's all right now. Go to sleep. You'll feel   
better.*  
  
As those last words reverberated inside him he   
felt a comfortable warmth settle over him, beckoning,   
enticing him gently. He slunk down farther and rested   
his head on the pillow.  
  
*Sleep now.*  
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
*Sleep. . . .*  
  
Mamoru slipped into a dreamless slumber, warm   
and unloved.  
  
****  
  
"Quantus tremor . . . est . . . futurus . . . "   
Michiru sang the words softly but ferociously, quietly   
trying to imagine the sound in a giant basilica with   
seven hundred voices screaming at the top of their lungs.  
  
[Ai: and with Sops passing out every which way. I   
didn't, of course, but I'm tough and I was wearing flip-  
flops. Sop pride, baby!]  
  
"Michiru-chan?"  
  
A sleepy, half-lidded Haruka was standing at the   
stairs, dressed in a tiny tank top and her pajama pants   
and rubbing sleep out of her eyes. If she'd had a teddy   
bear and her blanket, she'd have looked no older than   
five.  
  
"Haruka?" Michiru adjusted herself in the lacy   
white negligee she usually wore to bed. It made her   
feel sexy, and Haruka had certainly never objected.   
That negligee tended to get her in a lot of trouble.   
Setting her reading glasses aside, she turned to face   
Haruka better.  
  
"Are you still working?" Haruka asked tiredly.  
  
"Mm-hmm," Michiru said, flashing a smile. "I'm   
on a roll tonight, Haruka-chan. I couldn't possibly   
stop now."  
  
"That's what you said last night," the tomboyish   
senshi mumbled. She walked over and slipped her arms   
around Michiru. Kissing her throat lightly, she   
murmured sensually, "Come to bed. I'll show you a roll."  
  
Michiru sighed dreamily. "That sounds lovely,   
Haruka-chan, but I couldn't possibly tear myself away   
now. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. But I'll   
come up later, I promise."  
  
Haruka was awake now, and looked a little   
hurt. "If that's the way you feel," she said quietly,   
going back towards the stairs. "I'll wait up for you."  
  
The aqua-haired girl was already hard at work   
again, unmindful of her lover. And though Haruka turned   
back three times while plodding up the marble staircase   
in the atrium of their home, Michiru didn't look back   
once.  
  
"Quantus tremor est futurus . . ."  
  
Three hours later, Haruka succumbed to sleep   
alone, warm and unloved.  
  
****  
  
Something was very, very wrong. That's what   
Tsukino Ikuko would be telling herself if she were to   
openly acknowledge the niggling little voice screaming   
in the back of her head. But she didn't, maybe because   
she didn't want to, maybe because she felt it wasn't her   
place, or maybe because she sensed that the situation   
looming over her daughter was something to be afraid of,   
for Usagi's behalf as well as her own.  
  
There had been an oppressive air over the house   
ever since Usagi had gotten home after disappearing   
abruptly without telling anyone where she was going.   
Later, her friend Makoto came forward and said that   
Usagi was helping her with some home decorating and   
decided to spend the night, but Ikuko was not convinced   
the tall brunette was telling the truth.  
  
Since that night, Usagi refused to come out of   
her room and spent most of her time in bed, either   
sleeping or crying, more the latter than the former.   
The signs were there. The evidence [was] plain.   
Something awful had happened to her daughter.   
  
But instead, she played the fool because she   
subconsciously knew that the normalcy $most people don't   
know it, but this is NOT a word. President Harding made   
it up for his campaign "Return to Normalcy." so . . . I   
avoid using it$ of it all comforted Usagi. She feigned   
anger and frustration at her 'lazy' child. Usagi yelled   
at her to go away. This morning Ikuko decided to take   
the scene a step further and play the angry mother who   
wanted her daughter to go to school finally.  
  
"USAGI!!! GET UP!!!"  
  
She scowled and marched up the steps, throwing   
open the door to her daughter's room. Usagi was buried   
under a pile of blankets, curled into a small ball at   
the head of the bed.  
  
"Get up, Usagi-chan."  
  
"I'm not going, and nothing you can do will make   
me."  
  
"Listen young lady," she hissed menacingly,   
ignoring the way her daughter was cowering under the   
covers, "it has been three days since your little   
disappearing act and I'm not taking pity on you any   
longer. Now GET UP!!!"  
  
Usagi rolled over as tears ran freely down her   
cheeks. Luna sat on the sill, watching over her   
mistress protectively.  
  
Ikuko sat down next to her daughter and cupped   
the girl's flushed face in her face in her hands. Loose   
blond hair covered the bed and Ikuko's hands. The   
pretty, still fairly young mother could feel Luna's eyes   
boring into her, compelling her to act.  
  
With an unsteady tempo, she began, "I know   
you're upset, Usagi-chan, but you can't stay in your   
room for the rest of your life. Sooner or later you   
have to come downstairs and eat."  
  
"You wouldn't understand," she muttered, pulling   
away. She brought the covers over her head. "I have a   
headache."  
  
Ikuko laid a gentle hand on Usagi's   
forehead. "Actually, you are a little warm," she said,   
genuinely surprised. She brushed Usagi's bangs out of   
her cerulean eyes. "Maybe you *should* stay home today."  
  
"Really?" Usagi's voice was hopeful.  
  
"But only today," Ikuko warned. "Tomorrow, I   
don't care if you come down with bubonic plague, you're   
going to school."  
  
"I understand," Usagi said softly, sliding back   
under the covers. "Thank you, Mama-san."  
  
Ikuko smiled lovingly at her daughter. "Get   
some rest, Usagi-chan." She closed the door behind her.  
  
"I wish you'd tell me what happened between you   
and Mamoru-san," Luna said as soon as Usagi's mother was   
out of earshot. "Maybe talking about it would make you   
feel better."  
  
"I don't want to," she said, sounding a little   
hoarse. "Please, Luna-chan, just let me sleep."  
  
Luna jumped down and stared in her owner's   
eyes. "I think I will," she murmured before launching   
herself out the window.  
  
Usagi quickly descended into a feverish slumber,   
calling out for Mamoru as she slept.  
  
****  
  
The senshi had faced youma of every shape and   
size, demons of immeasurable power, threats that could   
have easily turned the Universe, much less one planet,   
inside out and back before any of them could say their   
henshin. Few things could inspire them to real terror   
and dread any longer. Yet there was one thing, one so   
horrible and cruel, that Ami and Makoto cowered in fear   
every time Thursday--the day selected for this   
particular torture session--rolled around.  
  
Minako's after-school comedy act.  
  
"So on the third day, the duck walks in again   
and says, 'Got any grapeth?' And the bartender is   
really mad and starts yelling, 'Look, you stupid duck,   
if you come in here ONE more time--"  
  
"Ahem!" Luna interrupted Minako's joke. Ami   
and Makoto looked frighteningly relieved.  
  
"Thanks a lot, Luna-chan," Minako   
scowled. "You're just as bad as Artemis."  
  
"Judging from that Twinkie joke of yours, it   
won't be fit for the company of serial killers anyhow,   
Minako-chan," Artemis retorted.  
  
"THIS joke is CLEAN!!!"  
  
"That's what she said about the deaf genie,   
too," Makoto whispered to Ami.  
  
"Don't forget the buttered carrots," Ami   
whispered back, shuddering. "My virgin ears!"  
  
"If you please," Luna scowled at the   
girls. "Have any of you talked to Usagi-chan recently?"  
  
The girls paused. "She's been out of school   
ever since her night with Mamoru-san," Ami said   
quietly. "We stopped by two days ago but she was   
asleep."  
  
"We would've come by again," Makoto added, "but   
Ami-chan made us study for our English exams."  
  
"I even understand the damn language better than   
she does," Minako rolled her eyes. Then, growing   
serious, she asked, "Is something wrong, Luna-chan?"   
Minako asked gently. "Is Usagi-chan okay?" It was a   
foolish question. Minako knew the answer well.  
  
"No," Luna said distantly. "She's *not,* Mina-  
chan."  
  
"Maybe she's trying to sort through her feelings   
with Mamoru-san after they consecrated their love,"   
Minako said seriously.  
  
Five pairs of eyes were trained on Minako. "Did   
you just say that . . ."  
  
"Since WHEN . . ."  
  
"How do you know . . ."  
  
"Oh, like it isn't obvious, minna," Minako   
groaned, rolling her eyes. "I mean, it doesn't take the   
power of Venus to realize they did it like they do it on   
the History Channel afterwards."  
  
"That'd be the Discovery Channel," Ami said,   
making a face.  
  
Makoto stared; Artemis sweatdropped. Luna was   
just trying her darndest not to laugh.  
  
"Well, veering away from the topic of . . .   
ah . . . bestial pleasures, what are you here to talk   
about Luna-chan?" a very red Artemis asked.  
  
Luna sighed. "She hasn't left her bed since she   
got back from Mamoru-san's that morning."  
  
"Not at all?" Makoto raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Well, as little as possible," Luna scowled at   
Makoto. "I don't know what to do, minna. All she does   
are sleep and cry. I was wondering if any of you knew   
what happened that upset her so much, the obvious aside."  
  
Minako had the grace to blush.  
  
"We haven't seen her either," Ami said   
slowly. "Did you see anything when he brought her home?"  
  
Luna paused. "Come to think of it," she   
replied, "I don't think Mamoru-san was with her when she   
got home. There was a blond with her."  
  
"Are you telling me Usagi-chan's getting a   
little sideline action?" Minako asked, oddly   
impressed. "Two in one night . . . now THAT'll tire a   
girl out."  
  
"I doubt that somehow," Luna groaned.  
  
"What about Haruka-san? She'd fit that   
description," Makoto pointed out. "And Usagi-chan   
trusts the Outers explicitly."  
  
"Do you think Haruka-san and Michiru-san would   
be willing to tell us what happened?" Makoto asked,   
carefully considering this.  
  
"I don't know," Ami said. "Mako-chan, why don't   
you pay them a visit during the next few days? I have a   
feeling you'd be the most likely one to wrestle anything   
out of Haruka-san. Right now I told Rei-chan I'd meet   
her at the Crown Fruit Parlor. She wanted to talk to me   
about something."  
  
"Sounds good," Minako said. "I'll go visit   
Usagi-chan."  
  
"I'm not sure she'll be up to it," Luna   
warned. "Usagi-chan's feeling a little under the   
weather and you know how cranky she gets when she's ill."  
  
"She's sick?" Minako's ears piqued. "Why didn't   
you tell me that before? I should do something about   
that. . . ."  
  
"Here we go again," Artemis muttered, covering   
his head with his paws.  
  
"It'll be Nurse Minako to the rescue!"  
  
The girls just sweatdropped.  
  
****  
  
"So the fire won't give anything up?" Makoto   
pressed Rei, who scornfully rolled her eyes in response.  
  
"The fire is not a Magic-8 ball, Mako-chan," Rei   
seethed. "It is a medium I use to better comprehend the   
world around me. The spirits do not tell me anything I   
wish and, to be honest with you, I prefer it that way.   
The truth may set one free, but it can also be a very   
heavy burden."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"It's all right," Rei calmed herself   
down. "Think of it a bit like a painting: the materials   
are all there but without inspiration you'll have   
nothing but a blank canvas. The spirit acts as a sort   
of 'muse.'"  
  
"I see," Makoto replied, pondering the new   
information. Turning to the blue-haired girl next to   
her. "Beaten Mephisto yet?" she asked, abruptly   
changing the subject. Ami was busily typing away at her   
new Mercury computer. She had recently taken the old   
system apart and completely rebuilt for the purpose of   
understanding how to repeat the task. The new system,   
while looking like an ordinary laptop, allowed her to   
access the vast reservoirs of information and programs   
her smaller battle-friendly system used at any time   
without looking suspicious. And it had a full version   
of "Diablo II," with expansion pack, her current method   
of escapism.  
  
Ami scowled. "Don't remind me," she   
groaned. "Besides, I do use this system for purposes   
besides games. Right now, for example, I'm *working*."  
  
Makoto groaned. "Can't I get anything right   
with you two?" she muttered under her breath.  
  
"What are you working on?" Rei asked   
inquisitively, changing the conversation.  
  
"Some homework for a programming class I'm   
taking."  
  
She was lying, and they both knew it. Ami had a   
little tremble voice unique to situations where she was   
concealing something. Rei picked it up quickly, but   
Makoto hadn't noticed it until more recently. But both   
had the distinct impression she was doing something   
senshi-related, and so the fib was not questioned.  
  
"Aren't you three quiet today?"  
  
Furuhata Motoki stood over the booth, grinning   
impishly at the three younger girls.  
  
"Motoki-san," Makoto plastered on a fake   
smiled. "How are you doing today?"  
  
"I've been better." He wiped down the counter   
next to me. "My sister left me to fend for myself today   
because it's her and her boyfriend's two-year   
anniversary.  
  
"That's nice," Ami said without looking up. She   
was fixated on the screen before her.  
  
Growing curious, Mokoki stepped behind Ami and   
asked, "What are you doing?"  
  
"Homework for a programming class," Ami trembled.  
  
He cocked his head. "At the University, right?   
I've seen you around."  
  
Her head bobbed in agreement.  
  
"I remember that class," Motoki said, scanning   
her work, "and I don't remember having to write matrix   
decoding programs until the third-year class. The class   
I'm in now," he added, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Ami stopped.  
  
"So what's it really for?" Motoki asked   
innocently.  
  
Ami frantically searched for another   
lie. "Well . . . we were studying the German coding   
system from World War II. I wanted to see if I could   
create a program that, if you knew what the message said   
and what the coded version looked like, if you could   
derive any matrix that would spit out the same answer.   
I like to challenge myself at times."  
  
That wasn't a lie, the girls acknowledged, until   
the end. Ami wouldn't have spent so much of the last   
three days working on the program unless she had   
something in mind. She simply didn't think like that.  
  
Motoki, however, looked impressed. "That's very   
advanced," he commented. "And sounds very difficult to   
write. We did something like that in my class, although   
not on such a grand scale. How big would the matrix be?"  
  
"Anywhere from 101 by 101 to 10001 by 10001,"   
Ami replied confidently.  
  
The man blanched. "That *is* a challenge," he   
said slowly. "When we did it in class the matrix was   
only 5 by 5. I should dig my program out and give it to   
you. That might help you get the basic framework in   
shape."  
  
Ami looked up in surprise, her deep blue eyes   
focused on Motoki. "Would you really?" she asked,   
seeming touched.  
  
"Of course," he winked. "I'll search for it   
tonight. So . . . what are you doing besides marveling   
at Ami-chan's intelligence?" Ami had the grace to blush.  
  
"Just talking," Makoto said, a little light   
bulb going off in her head. "Say . . . Motoki-san, have   
you seen Mamoru-san?"  
  
For a moment, Makoto saw the easygoing blonde's   
eyes flash with some abrupt emotion before returning to   
normal. Rei noticed it too, though she clearly had a   
better idea what it was about. "Not recently," the   
young man expressionlessly. "He-he's had a lot of work   
to do lately. He got a full-time job while he's off   
this semester. . . ."  
  
"NANI?!"  
  
Motoki actually managed to turn whiter than he   
had when Ami had given him her preposterous figures.  
  
"He took off the semester," he reiterated   
calmly. "The University couldn't transfer his classes   
from his third semester into ones they offered that   
still had space. To tell you the truth," Motoki's voice   
dropped about 15 decibels, "I think he was glad the   
University couldn't accept him until March. He . . . he   
hasn't exactly been at the top of his game since he got   
back."  
  
"Mamoru-san? I find that hard to believe," Rei   
snorted. "What happened?"  
  
Motoki shrugged. "It wasn't my place to ask,"   
he countered sadly. "Ten years of friendship and he   
still can't give me a straight answer."  
  
The wistful, distant look in Motoki's eyes ate   
at Rei. Over the years she'd realized how much Motoki   
really cared about his best friend, if it was proper to   
call Mamoru that. Mamoru was still shutting people out,   
and at some time, Motoki had harbored the hope he could   
get through to him.  
  
She touched a soft hand to Motoki's, whose eyes   
darted to her, confused and a little wary. "You   
shouldn't blame yourself for Mamoru's problems, Motoki-  
san. I know you'd do whatever was necessary to help him   
out."  
  
Rather than being relieved or grateful at the   
truth in the words, Motoki snatched his hand away,   
spinning off to wipe down the counters.  
  
****  
  
Maybe Artemis nearly had a conniption after   
Minako's disastrous attempt to make homemade chicken   
soup (an event that he refused to ever talk about again,   
claiming to suffer from traumatic amnesia), but Luna   
simply watched Minako as she accidentally burned half of   
Artemis's fur off, knowing full well that the most   
delicious soup in the Universe--or even the loving   
intentions behind it--would do nothing to assuage Usagi.  
  
But she let Minako think that the soup would   
help, because it gave her something to do and didn't let   
her mind wander to darker subjects. Luna didn't have   
the heart to let Minako be dragged into this just yet.   
So Artemis screeched like a kitten and Luna giggled in   
her corner, pretending that it *was* that simple and   
that this could be all there was.  
  
Even Luna got tired of destiny sometimes.  
  
And Minako finally did get her soup made, even   
living up to Luna's highly discriminative standards.  
  
So the golden senshi and two cats packed up   
their things (Artemis blatantly refused to wear a   
nurse's hat, but Luna decided to humor Minako for once)   
and walked to Usagi's house, quietly knocking on the   
door.  
  
When Ikuko opened the door, Minako could feel an   
oppressive force wafting through the halls. It was no   
surprise that Luna had fled that morning. Minako knew   
that if she didn't leave now, there would be severe   
consequences.  
  
She stepped inside.  
  
Luna wrapped herself around Usagi's mother's   
legs, rubbing comfortingly. In response, Ikuko picked   
the cat up and rubbed Luna's cheek again[st] her own   
smooth one.  
  
"Minako-chan," Ikuko murmured, drawing comfort   
from the cat. "Are you here to see Usagi-chan?"  
  
The blonde nodded solemnly.  
  
"She's sleeping. Try back in an hour."  
  
"May I see her now?" Minako whispered   
appealingly, her gray-blue eyes watery and simmering.  
  
Ikuko looked at Luna, who was giving the   
periwinkle-haired mother her best affirmative look.   
Sighing, Ikuko murmured, "Try not to wake her up."  
  
In a sudden rush of gratitude Minako wrapped her   
arms tightly around the older woman, hugging her   
fiercely. She left a shocked Ikuko standing in the hall.  
  
When she stepped in the room, Minako felt her   
heart break. Watching Usagi, huddled in a mass of   
blankets and misery, made her want to sink into the   
ground.  
  
"Usagi-chan?" Minako whispered almost   
reverently. "It's me."  
  
"Go away," Usagi replied hoarsely, turning away   
from the golden senshi.  
  
But Minako didn't go away. Marching up to the   
side of the bed, she gently lowered herself next to   
Usagi, lightly stroking Usagi's long hair. "We've   
missed you in Modern World History," Minako said,   
desperately trying to smile. "It's not the same without   
you fighting with Tamayo-sensei."  
  
"That's nice," Usagi murmured sleepily.  
  
"Won't you tell me what's wrong, Usagi-chan?"   
Minako pushed carefully, trying not to hurt her, but   
needing the truth.  
  
Usagi sighed. "I don't know anymore . . . I'm   
so tired, Mina-P, I'm tired of dealing with it . . .   
sometimes I want to just . . . I can't think right now."  
  
"Then don't," Minako soothed. "But you can't   
hide for forever. He loves you, Usagi-chan, he loves   
you so much he doesn't know what to do about it. If you   
ever owed him anything, Usa-chan, you owe him an answer   
now. I know he's hurt you in the past, perhaps without   
even understanding how, but he deserves some sort of   
closure, if it is to come to that."  
  
Usagi muttered something under her breath that   
sounded to be along the lines of, "He doesn't deserve   
anything from me." The comment was not intended for   
Minako, and the blonde ignored it in relief.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Minako asked,   
staring absentmindedly out the window.  
  
"Lots of things," Usagi said vaguely.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like lots of things," Usagi huffed.  
  
"Why are you avoiding my question, Usa-P?" Mina   
inquired suspiciously.  
  
"It's not that, Mina-P," Usagi replied. "I'm   
just not . . . ready. I have a lot of things to sort   
out, I guess."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked   
hopefully.  
  
"No," Usagi shook her head. "I don't."  
  
"Oh." Minako tried to pick up Usagi's hand, but   
it was abruptly snatched away.  
  
"Usa-chan . . ."  
  
"Do you think," Usagi whispered quickly, almost   
fearfully, "that two people can love each other so, so   
much, that it is as if they are one soul instead of two,   
and still not have the strength to overcome their   
problems? Do you think it's possible that love may not   
be enough?"  
  
Minako cringed. "I don't want to believe   
anything of the sort."  
  
"I love him," Usagi cried, "and even though it   
hurts me to do it, I do! What am I supposed to do about   
that, Mina-chan?"  
  
"I . . . I don't know," Minako admitted. Even   
for the senshi of love these were uncharted waters. No   
good could come from this line of thinking.  
  
"That's nice," Usagi said caustically, eyes   
tearing all the while, "but I need an answer."  
  
"Usa . . ."  
  
"What?" she snapped. "You're the senshi of   
love, aren't you? Don't you have an answer for me?"  
  
Minako stared at her blankly. "What is your   
problem, Usagi?" she asked incredulously. "You never   
act like this."  
  
"Don't assume anything about me!" Usagi   
barked. "I won't allow it."  
  
The blonde leered. "You won't allow me to not   
have an answer for you? Usagi-chan, whatever it is   
going on in your odango head, you need to stop being so   
bratty--"  
  
"How DARE you--"  
  
"Well, it's TRUE!" Minako yelled in fury.   
Whatever Usagi's problem was, she knew she wanted no   
part in it.  
  
"Get out, Minako." The voice was as icy as it   
was vindictive. "Just get out."  
  
Minako *gladly* acquiesced.  
  
****  
  
It was awfully hard for Haruka to sleep with   
Michiru pounding at the keys of her piano at two in the   
morning yet again. Thanks to the pitifully thin walls   
of the mansion (Haruka made a mental note to have that   
looked into), she could hear Michiru refining "Dies   
Irae."  
  
She covered her head with a pillow.  
  
No good.  
  
She covered her head with a blanket.  
  
Once, again, nothing.  
  
Haruka got up and flipped the television on,   
turning it up to its highest volume.  
  
And still the song played.  
  
In a rage, she stomped downstairs, still   
clutching a pillow, and threw it onto Michiru's hands.  
  
"WILL YOU STOP THAT INFERNAL RACKET?!"  
  
Michiru's fair skin looked a bit sallow, and her   
hair hung limply around her face. Her eyes were rimmed   
with red and puffy from too many nights nursing   
quintuple-shot non-fat, extra-hot vanilla lattes   
(Michiru was an espresso fanatic) and pounding at the   
keys at various godforsaken hours of the morning.  
  
"I made a breakthrough tonight," Michiru said   
coldly. "I finished the first three parts of the third   
movement."  
  
"The only things you're breaking through are the   
walls and my good night's rest. I have a race tomorrow   
afternoon, remember?  
  
Michiru blinked. "I thought that was next week."  
  
"Tomorrow is Friday, isn't it?" Haruka was   
genuinely surprised. "You've never forgotten one of my   
race dates, Michiru. Come on up to bed. I don't want   
you falling asleep when I lap the boys."  
  
"Just after I finish this page," Michiru   
replied.   
  
Haruka screamed in frustration.   
  
****  
  
Ikuko remembered the tortured sounds her   
daughter was making the night before and was planning to   
let her daughter stay home another day. Until then,   
Ikuko had never imagined that her sunny, bright daughter   
could have such reserves of misery inside her, that she   
could be brought down and suffer so.  
  
Imagine her surprise when Usagi came tripping   
down the stairs thanks to an abrupt dizzy spell, on time   
for once in her life, yawning even as she fell down the   
last three steps, but eerily perky.  
  
"I forgot that last step's a doozy," Usagi   
muttered, rubbing her bruised shoulder. "We should do   
something about that, 'Kaa-san."  
  
Ikuko stared. "Are you all right?"  
  
"No, my shoulder hurts and I think I pulled a   
muscle," Usagi rolled her eyes and got off of the floor,   
limping slightly and grabbing the wall to keep dizziness   
from bringing her back down. "Good thing I only pressed   
the snooze button twice today. Limping to school will   
be bad enough as it is." Laughing, she hopped to the   
breakfast table, ignoring her stinging calf and suddenly   
pounding heart. "I'd drink coffee," she explained, "but   
I can't afford to shrink."  
  
Ikuko was still staring.  
  
"Why are you staring at me?" Usagi   
asked. "You're the one who's always trying to make me   
be on time."  
  
"I thought you--"  
  
"So did I until I woke up this morning," Usagi   
said dismissively. "But I can't hide for forever.   
Besides, Mina-P said that she misses flunking tests with   
me. I can't possibly let her down anymore."  
  
With that, Usagi grabbed an odango and skipped   
out of the house, wincing with the pain of her pulled   
calf. "Bye, 'Kaa-san!"  
  
Ikuko stared some more.  
  
****  
  
Despite the fanfare, Usagi still successfully   
managed to be late, which, despite Tamayo-sensei's best   
efforts to call her on it, had to acknowledge that the   
limping was a good enough excuse. Sitting pertly at her   
desk, Usagi immediately applied herself to the task of   
drawing pictures of characters from "Ayashi no Ceres."  
  
"What's that?" Minako asked, staring at the   
pictures.  
  
"That's Aya kissing Tooya, and Yuuhi kissing   
Ceres, and that's Kyuu--"  
  
"I mean what's up with the personality flip-  
flop," Minako said. "Just yesterday you were bawling   
your eyes out over Mamoru-san."  
  
Usagi stiffened. "I can't just break. I'm   
stronger than that."  
  
"Good for you," Minako replied, looking   
genuinely happy. "So what are you going to do now?"  
  
"I don't know," Usagi whispered, her eyes   
downcast. "I'm trying to think of an answer. Could we   
not talk about that now, Mina-chan?"  
  
"Tsukino-san! Aino-san! What are you two   
discussing?"  
  
"What the captain of the water polo team told me   
he wants to do to each of the boys in this class,"   
Minako said breezily. "For a while I was horrified, but   
I couldn't help but giggle when he got to the part with   
the hard-core S&M."  
  
That effectively ended the conversation.  
  
****  
  
"Well, there goes my chance with Nishikawa-san,"   
Minako grumbled to Usagi. "Me and my big mouth."  
  
"He was too tall for you anyway," Usagi said   
cheerily.  
  
"You should talk," Minako rolled her   
eyes. "You're shorter than even I am."  
  
Usagi shrugged, wincing when she readjusted her   
weight onto her pulled muscle.  
  
"Something wrong?" Minako asked, staring at   
Usagi's leg.  
  
"I pulled a muscle earlier," Usagi explained.  
  
"Oh, I've done that plenty of times," Minako   
said. "Do some stretching exercises and loosen your   
muscles up. You're too tense."  
  
"Thanks," Usagi said, looking grateful. "Are   
you going to Haruka-san's race today?"  
  
"Haruka's racing? I didn't hear about that."  
  
"She's test-driving some new car. It's supposed   
to be really exciting."  
  
"And me with volleyball practice," Minako   
groaned. "Well, have a good time."  
  
"I will," Usagi assured her teasingly. Minako   
just humphed.  
  
Presently Haruka drove up, her hair flying in   
the wind. "You ready, neko-chan?"  
  
"You're giving me a ride?" Usagi asked, seeming   
touched.  
  
"How else were you going to get to the   
racetrack?" Haruka asked, a hint of mockery in her   
voice. "Hop in."  
  
With a full-bodied smile, Usagi jumped in and   
waved goodbye to her jealous schoolmates and *very*   
jealous Minako, then had to steady herself when she   
became dizzy.  
  
"So, neko-chan," Haruka said as they whizzed   
through the streets of Tokyo, "feeling any better?"  
  
"A lot," Usagi said decisively.  
  
"Have you spoken with Mamoru-san?"  
  
Usagi's face dropped. "No," she whispered   
glumly. "I'm such an idiot, Haruka-san. After all   
this, I still keep praying he'll call."  
  
"Well, I've been hearing things through the   
grapevine," Haruka said. "Apparently he hasn't been   
living it up the last few days, if that makes you feel   
any better."  
  
Usagi looked at Haruka suspiciously. "Who told   
you that?"  
  
"Makoto-chan did yesterday."  
  
"You talked to Mako-chan?"  
  
"I've talked to all the Inners the last few   
days. They're really worried about you and want to know   
what happened after Tuxedo Kamen swept you away that   
night." Usagi became rigid. "Don't worry, I didn't   
tell."  
  
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Arigato, Haruka-  
san. I really do appreciate it."  
  
"Listen, neko-chan . . ." Haruka's voice   
dropped. "Have you read the newspapers lately?"  
  
"Sure," Usagi answered her cheerfully. "I read   
the comics everyday."  
  
"The part with all the big words?" Haruka said   
witheringly.  
  
"Oh . . . not really."  
  
"Then either way you wouldn't have seen   
anything."  
  
"What way?" Usagi blinked in confusion.  
  
Haruka sighed. "Your beloved killed someone,   
neko-chan. People don't just come from nowhere."  
  
Mamoru did, Usagi argued silently. For all we   
know he might've materialized out of thin air. I wonder   
if some day he'd disappear back into it.  
  
"That person had a name, a family, a life.   
Someone should have noticed."  
  
"Of course," Usagi agreed apprehensively,   
pushing her thoughts aside. "The boy . . . I think   
I . . . I mean I know I . . . why he lives with . . ."   
But try as she might, she could not figure out from   
where she remembered the boy. He lived . . . the   
apartment . . . the jumbled mass of thoughts grew too   
great to mull over any longer, so she pushed them   
aside. "I don't know," she finally admitted, looking   
down at her lap.  
  
"You don't know anything? Didn't you say the   
boy lived a floor below Mamoru-san?"  
  
Had she said that? Usagi tried to sort out the   
contradictory little barbs inside her mind. "I can't   
remember that," she concluded, sounding very firm.  
  
"Is that so?" Haruka raised an   
eyebrow. "Because that sounds rather suspicious to me."  
  
"I'm telling the truth!" Usagi protested loudly,   
glaring fiercely at Haruka.  
  
The slender woman looked away. "Neko-chan," she   
said quietly. "I believe *you.* There are just other   
parts of this that don't add up. And parts of them have   
to do with a very unsettling piece of information   
Setsuna-san once entrusted me with. Do you know the   
extent of power that you hold over the Moon?" Haruka   
inquired.  
  
Usagi started a bit. "I don't understand what   
you mean," she intoned uncertainly.  
  
"Should you wish it, neko-chan, you could   
literally cause the moon to shatter into oblivion, your   
hold over the planet is that strong. And we senshi have   
a similar hold over our own domains. But it goes   
further than that. As senshi, we also have, to a   
certain extent, a degree of control over our planet's   
denizens. Of the ten of us, only one planet in the   
system has anyone left to manipulate in that way. And   
who would that be?"  
  
"I . . . I mean you . . . you're not SAYING--"  
  
"No, neko-chan, I'm not saying, I'm suggesting.   
I have no proof to back up my theory but at this time   
it's the most logical one." Haruka put her energy into   
concentrating on the road.  
  
"Oh." And there was nothing more said between   
them for the rest of the ride.  
  
****  
  
Box seats were the best invention since sliced   
bread, Usagi decided as she sank into the lush leather   
sofa while popping grapes. The spread was absolutely   
amazing in Haruka's private box, which was virtually   
empty. Usagi slid down, taking in her surroundings.   
Despite the languor flowing in her veins and an odd   
lightheaded feeling, she waited expectantly for the   
race, her mind only dimly registering the obvious lack   
of Michiru's presence. At the moment, she was trying to   
forget all that Haruka had told her and really was doing   
an excellent job at it.  
  
"Usagi-chan?"  
  
Usagi perked up. "Mako-chan?"  
  
Kino Makoto was wearing makeup, and the little   
tendrils of her ponytail had been carefully curled. She   
carried a dozen perfect pink roses in the crook of her   
left arm. "Am I late?" Makoto asked, walking in very   
smoothly.  
  
"There's no one in here, Mako-chan."  
  
Makoto breathed a sigh of relief as she hopped   
onto the couch. "I was worried there'd be all these   
important people in this box," Makoto confessed.  
  
"They're all in the press box," Usagi said   
matter-of-factly. "Or they have their own."  
  
Makoto looked around. "Where's Michiru-san?"  
  
"Michiru-san? I don't know," Usagi said   
honestly. "Maybe she's down at the track waiting for   
Haruka-san."  
  
"Maybe," Makoto said, but she looked   
uncomfortable.  
  
"So how did you get invited into Haruka-san's   
private box?" Usagi asked, munching on a cracker.  
  
"She gave me a pass," Makoto said. "I was   
planning to talk to her later. How are you doing, Usagi-  
chan?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject.  
  
"Tired," she mumbled lazily, her eyes   
closing. "Really, really tired."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," Mako replied   
uncomfortably. "Hey, look, the race is starting, Usagi-  
chan . . . Usagi-chan?"  
  
Usagi was fast asleep on the couch, snoring   
lightly, eyes rimmed with dark circles.  
  
"That was fast," Mako commented cynically, but   
she didn't have the heart to wake the tiny Princess up.   
Searching around, she found a decorative afghan to   
spread over Usagi. Mako settled in and watched the race   
intently, checking occasionally on Usagi--checking, she   
didn't want to admit to herself, to see if Usagi was   
still breathing.  
  
****  
  
There was something about speed that made Haruka   
feel alive. Normal life was too slow for her; it was   
filled with things like obstacles and walls, things that   
she either buckled down, scaled and went past, or   
completely ignored.  
  
But on the racetrack, it was different. No   
obstacles, no barriers, just the wind flying past and   
pure adrenaline. While she was racing, nothing could   
touch her; no one would hurt her. She felt as if she   
could fly.  
  
And fly she did that day, easily lapping her   
opponents and finishing the eight laps with a new   
record. Smiling as she emerged from the smoky car, she   
triumphantly pulled off her helmet, feeling the crowd's   
applause and admiration sink into her skin.  
  
Haruka waited eagerly for the next part of this   
ritual, the part where a triumphant Michiru came down   
and embraced Haruka. Smiling uncontrollably, she   
searched the crowd for Michiru's sweet, slender figure   
running maniacally in her usual way, the way that made   
people see something about of elegant nymph that went   
beyond her cool, polished demeanor. The something that   
Haruka loved more than anything.  
  
But she wasn't around. Heart clenching, Haruka   
grimly realized that Michiru had broken her promise to   
come that day. Hot, angry tears dared to fall from her   
eyes, but Haruka swept them away before anyone realized   
them for what they were. She smiled shakily and waved   
to an adoring crowd, quietly accepting her trophy and   
still hoping Michiru would be there.  
  
It was stupid to get worked up over this, some   
corner of Haruka's mind pointed out. After all, she had   
been to virtually every other race of Haruka's career.   
Once wasn't a pattern or anything. It wasn't as if she   
*needed* to be here for some reason.  
  
Needed to only because she promised, another   
part of her whispered. She had *promised*, and now   
where was she? Probably sitting by the piano, Haruka   
thought grimly.  
  
When someone finally came bounding down, it was   
Makoto, not Michiru, holding a dozen pink   
roses. "Congratulations," Makoto said cheerfully,   
offering Haruka the roses. Touched, Haruka accepted the   
girlish token and profusely thanked the source.  
  
"It was nothing," Makoto blushed. "Where's   
Michiru-san?"  
  
Haruka's happier disposition turned sour   
again. "Not here," Haruka said coolly.  
  
"Oh." Makoto was pretty perceptive.  
  
"Where's neko-chan?" Haruka asked, trying to   
change the subject. "Shouldn't she be around?"  
  
"Uh yeah, that," Makoto giggled   
nervously. "She, ah, she fell asleep before the race   
even started."  
  
"Did she?" Haruka wasn't angry, merely   
concerned. "Is she feeling all right?"  
  
"Well, she hadn't been feeling well the last few   
days," Makoto said quietly. "Probably because of Ma--"  
  
"Later." Haruka waved at her mechanic and   
yelled something about tuning the engine, then followed   
Makoto up to the private box.  
  
"So," Makoto said, trying to make   
conversation, "did Michiru-san have something to do   
today?"  
  
"Apparently so," Haruka said through clenched   
teeth. But when she saw Usagi, whose face was flushed   
and appeared to be sweating, her icy bile melted into   
worry for the little Princess.  
  
Putting a head to her forehead, Makoto   
said, "She feels a bit warm."  
  
"We'd better get her home." Haruka knelt down   
next to the blonde. "Neko-chan?"  
  
"Hmm?" Usagi didn't even open her eyes. "Leave   
me alone," she murmured. "I'm tired." Rolling back   
over, she coughed weakly and went to sleep again.  
  
"Neko-chan," Haruka said insistently, "it's time   
to go home."  
  
"Go away, Mamo-chan," she mumbled, batting a   
hand at Haruka.  
  
Makoto surveyed Haruka, squinting some. "You   
know, if you squint really hard, and it's dark. . . ."  
  
"Don't go there," Haruka cut her off. "Not   
unless you want to walk home."  
  
Mako gulped and lifted Usagi up. "We'll put her   
in your car and get her home."  
  
Haruka nodded and took Usagi from Makoto,   
starting down the stairs.  
  
"What happened the night after the Wraith's   
attack?" Makoto asked hoarsely, feeling Usagi's forehead   
as the small girl moaned softly.  
  
Haruka averted her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said   
quietly. "Neko-chan made me promise not to tell. But   
if you tell me what you know, we might be able to work   
something out."  
  
Makoto shrugged. "What's there to know? He   
leaves, which everyone expected, but then calls eight   
months later and says he's staying an extra year. And   
*then* Mamoru-san suddenly shows up seven months later,   
nine months short of his previous claims. Doesn't tell   
anyone he's back, not even Usagi-chan. And she walks in   
on him one day. After that, he won't return her phone   
calls, won't talk to her, won't really anything, but   
when she asks if he'd be happier if they broke up   
refuses."  
  
"Bastard," Haruka muttered, readjusting Usagi in   
her arms.  
  
"Well, that's the part that I'm wondering about   
now," Makoto said in a low voice. "I didn't tell the   
others this, but when I said that Mamoru-san didn't tell   
anyone, I mean *anyone*. Not even Motoki-san knew about   
it."  
  
"Really?" Haruka raised an eyebrow. "Aren't   
they best friends or something like that?"  
  
"Motoki-san's been pretty closemouthed about   
it. I've been trying to cajole details out of him but   
he won't talk. He's hiding something too, though, but I   
have no idea what that may be."  
  
"And so . . .?"  
  
"And so that's why I came to talk to you."   
Makoto situated herself in the back seat of the   
convertible as Haruka laid Usagi on Makoto's lap. "Ami-  
chan sent you the list, right?"  
  
"She did, but I haven't had time to look over   
it. I still can't believe that you four keep a list."  
  
"Hey, you try keeping the current status of   
Usagi-chan and Mamoru-san's relationship straight," Mako   
replied saucily. "What with teasing, breakups based on   
dreams and encounters with pink-haired future children   
and mirrors you need a flow chart to keep it all   
organized."  
  
"Point well taken." Haruka hopped in and   
started the car. "What are you going to do now?"  
  
"Well, Detective Minako is on the case, though I   
shudder at the thought," Makoto began, "and Ami-chan's   
been looking at this problem logically, and Rei-chan   
said she senses a heavy feeling over those two. But *I*   
sense a heavy feeling too, so that's not really   
significant."  
  
"In other words, you're stuck."  
  
"If we knew what happened that night at the   
restaurant," Makoto said, "then maybe we could piece   
this thing together."  
  
Haruka looked over at Makoto as she stopped at a   
stop sign. "Restaurant?"  
  
"She stopped wearing his ring that day," Makoto   
explained. "Whatever happened, it was big."  
  
Haruka looked pensive. "That can't be it," she   
said slowly, remembering what Usagi had told her. "Not   
at all. No, something happened while he was at Harvard,   
and whatever it was, it's now affecting his relationship   
with neko-chan. . . ."  
  
"We're here," Makoto said grimly, watching as   
Haruka pulled into the driveway.  
  
As Haruka lifted Usagi out of the seat and   
carried her over the walkway, she looked at Makoto and   
said, "Find out what happened at Harvard, Makoto-chan,   
and I'll tell you what happened the night of the   
attack. Or maybe you'll figure it out yourself."  
  
"Why would you think that I. . . ."  
  
"I don't know, I just do."  
  
****  
  
Tromping up the walkway, Haruka hung her head,   
not wanting to deal with Michiru. Angry as she was, all   
her energy was drained. She just wanted to go to bed   
and sleep, preferably with Michiru for once since this   
crazy project had begun.  
  
Michiru's idea of acknowledgement was, "Haruka-  
chan! I completely finished the first three movements!"  
  
That was it. Furiously she stormed into the   
Great Hall and swept all of the items off the piano in a   
ferocious swoop, knocking the sheets of music, pitch   
pipe, laptop, and star locket to the ground.  
  
"What did you do that for?" Michiru asked   
innocently, picking up the papers.  
  
"You PROMISED!" Haruka screamed at her fanatical   
lover. "You said you'd be there and you chose   
THIS . . . THIS. . . ."  
  
"Okay," Michiru said in an eerily calm   
voice, "so I forgot about the race. It's the first time   
that it ever happened. I mean it's not like you'll   
never race again."  
  
"That's not the point and you know it," Haruka   
replied scathingly.  
  
"Then what? That I have to follow you around   
like some sort of lovesick puppy, go to every single   
race and let myself be ruled by you?! Well, let me tell   
you something, Ten'oh Haruka--"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"What's what?" Michiru looked around the softly   
lit room.  
  
"That music," Haruka replied, her ears perking   
up. "It's familiar but . . . weird. Where is it coming   
from?"  
  
"I don't know," Michiru said, squirming   
uncomfortably. "Maybe you're just upset, Haruka-chan.   
I'm sorry love, I really am. This project has utterly   
consumed me." Lovingly kissing her neck, Haruka could   
feel herself melt under Michiru's gentle   
ministrations. "Let's go upstairs, darling," Michiru   
murmured seductively. "I think we're both a   
little . . . tense."  
  
As if entranced, Haruka allowed herself to be   
led up the magnificent marble staircase in the foyer and   
to the bedroom they shared. She gave no other thought   
to the bizarre music that had been playing in the   
hall. She did not even consider the sinister glint in   
Michiru's eyes.  
  
After a while, the locket snapped shut,   
concluding its haunting song.  
  
****  
  
The next day Usagi was at school again, though   
from the dark circles under her eyes Makoto knew she was   
still not well. But Usagi had a real smile on her face   
and was putting in an honest effort to care. She even   
managed to keep said smile when the P.E. teacher, who   
was a cross-country fanatic, told his class about the   
5000-meter "fun run" he had planned for the day.  
  
"All right meats!" the teacher boomed. "We're   
going to be taking a nice little jog today. We'll be   
going around the track once, then head out to the   
baseball diamond. . . ."  
  
Just hearing it be described was enough to make   
Usagi's head spin. At that moment it started to rain.  
  
". . . and back here for a victory lap. And I   
want to see you ready to collapse when this is done!   
Pain is glory people!"  
  
"Sensei . . ." A guy on the American football   
team protested. "Three miles. . . ."  
  
"What're you whining about, you meat? This is   
cross-country! The oldest sport in the world! Buck up,   
girlie!"  
  
"Unggh . . ." Usagi groaned quietly.  
  
"Sensei," one of the girls protested, "it's   
raining out."  
  
"Nonsense. Just a little misty. It's   
refreshing," the teacher grinned. "Just remember that   
the faster you run the sooner you're done. All   
right . . . comments, complaints, criticisms?"  
  
Surprisingly, no one said a word.  
  
"All right, then, let's begin. Gentlemen--and   
ladies, of course--start your engines!"  
  
Reluctantly, the class followed the example of   
the overexcited teacher.  
  
Being a good athlete with a competitive streak,   
Makoto had broken away from pack of runners, pacing most   
of the best male runners. Usagi wasn't too far behind   
her. All the running she did--from school to battle--  
had improved her pace substantially. Normally she kept   
up with Makoto, though neither of them ever had energy   
to spare for chatting. Haruka kept trying to get them   
to try out for the track team, but the girls were   
already in other activities and didn't have much   
interest.  
  
Despite her exhaustion, Usagi kept a little   
beyond the main pack of runners for the first 1500   
meters. After that, she couldn't push herself any more,   
and even keeping her current pace was torturous. As she   
slipped back into the crowds, feeling lightheaded and   
woozy and definitely ready to throw up. Her mouth was   
parched and crying for water.  
  
Usagi brushed it off as a sign she wasn't quite   
over her illness yet. Slowing to an easier pace, she   
forced herself to ignore her pounding headache and   
erratic heart.  
  
And yet . . . she didn't want to give up that   
easily. She would not let this stupid run beat her.   
With grim resolve Usagi made herself speed up again.  
  
The new pace was even worse than before. She   
felt her heart slamming in her chest, screaming at her   
to stop, but for the life of her she would not, could   
not comply.  
  
Around now Makoto realized Usagi wasn't keeping   
up. Looking behind, Makoto was horrified at the sickly   
white of Usagi's face, the shallow gasps she was using   
to breathe, the fraught, tortured look on her face.  
  
"Usagi-chan!"  
  
That was it. No more. Usagi collapsed there on   
the track, clutching her chest painfully.  
  
Immediately Makoto backed up, rushing to her   
fallen Princess's side. Choking back a cry, she dropped   
next to Usagi, trembling with fear.  
  
Usagi stared dazedly at her, still clutching her   
chest. "Mako?" she rasped, trying not to slip into   
oblivion.  
  
"Usa!" A crowd had begun to gather, whispering   
and gossiping incessantly. Some of the clearer-headed   
students had gone to get water, call the nurse, and grab   
the coach, who was now sprinting towards the area.  
  
"Tsukino-san?" The coach looked   
perplexed. "What happened?" Quickly, he snatched a   
jacket and set it up under her head.  
  
"Hurts," was all she'd say.  
  
"She's been sick recently," Makoto explained.  
  
The teacher looked angry. "Why didn't you tell   
me that?" he scowled. "You never should've been pushing   
yourself like that." Taking a water bottle from a   
student's hand, he splashed it refreshingly over the   
girl's forehead and offered her some. Usagi was allowed   
to gulp a few times before being gently led to a sitting   
position.  
  
Once like that, the coach calmed her down,   
making her do breathing exercises with him. As her   
heart slowed, Usagi calmed as well.  
  
By now the nurse had arrived. At Makoto's   
insistence, Usagi was then carried to the nurse's   
office, the teacher at her side.  
  
"So you've been sick recently, Tsukino-san?"  
  
From her position in Makoto's arms, she   
replied, "Yes, sensei, I have."  
  
"You had no business hitting the track as hard   
as you did today then," he chastised her. "Go home and   
get some rest. I'd better back. Lousy meats probably   
having a ball." The coach trotted away, leaving Usagi   
and Makoto alone.  
  
"He's right, you know."  
  
Usagi huffed. "I'm not going to let a silly run   
beat me, Mako-chan."  
  
Makoto looked down on her. "You're confused,   
Usagi-chan. Very, very confused."  
  
****  
  
"Oh this? My dad just bought it for me. State   
of the art. No expense spared . . . of course I'm being   
sarcastic! If I actually cared about his stupid money   
I'd be living with him. No, I *didn't* . . . is this   
that important, Mako-chan? He didn't tell me how many   
minutes my plan has . . . she what?"   
  
Rei stopped, pulled her brand-new fire-engine-  
red cell phone away from her ear and stared at it, not   
quite convinced she'd heard right. Putting it back up,   
she continued, "When did this happen . . .?"  
  
"Hino-san," one of the nuns gently tugged at her   
uniform. "No electronics during school hours."  
  
She looked up, her raven hair flying around her   
face. "I'm sorry. A friend of mine is sick, that's   
all. I was trying to find out more information."  
  
The nun looked sympathetic. "You have five   
minutes," she stated sternly to Rei. "And that's only   
if another sister doesn't see you."  
  
"Thank you, sister." Rei smiled at the woman.  
  
"Rei-chan? Are you there?"  
  
"Am now. The sisters are pretty strict about   
electronics during school hours."  
  
"Should I go? I think my phone card's a little   
low, anyways."  
  
"Probably. Look, there's a little French-style   
bistro about three blocks from my school. Do you know   
where I'm talking about?"  
  
"I *think* so . . . but I'll be a little late.   
I'm going to stop by Usagi-chan's first."  
  
"Works for me," Rei said smoothly. "Meet me   
there around 4:30. I have an archery club meeting   
anyways. See you then."  
  
****  
  
As it turned out, there was no meeting that   
afternoon, so Rei trod down to the café about an hour   
early. Les Delices de l'Ambrosie, the small   
patisserie/bistro near her school, had a 'quirky'   
patronage that, despite her uniform, she fit into well.   
The atmosphere would be comfortable, the girls would not   
be disturbed no matter the subject, and the food would   
uphold against even Makoto's elevated standards.  
  
After ordering a cappuccino, she pulled out a   
random textbook and prepared to wait, anxious for Makoto   
to come. Staring blankly at the History textbook she   
had been trying to study, she looked out the window,   
scanning yet again for Mako despite the fact she wasn't   
due for another 45 minutes.  
  
What she did see outside the window, on the   
other hand, was far more interesting than any Kino   
Makoto. Walking by was Mamoru; his shoulders were   
slumped in some sort of defeat, looking lowly at the   
ground.  
  
Unable to resist, Rei jumped out of her seat and   
dashed out in a manner highly uncharacteristic of her.   
She slid through the doorway just as Mamoru was about to   
walk past it, crashing into him and knocking them both   
back.  
  
"Remind me never to make fun of Usagi-chan for   
knocking into again," Rei mumbled from her spot on the   
concrete as she rubbed a sore spot on her head. "I   
swear you set yourself up for it."  
  
Mamoru paid her little heed. Standing up, he   
quickly brushed himself off and prepared to continue on   
his way.  
  
"Oh no you don't," Rei fumed. "You are going to   
stand here and listen to me if I have to crash into you   
all the way to your apartment."  
  
He didn't answer her; merely let his clouded   
gaze drift towards the window. "I'll stay," he gave in,   
unable to meet her raging violet orbs.  
  
Rei took a deep breath. "Why are you doing   
this?"  
  
"She doesn't want me, Rei-chan."  
  
"Mamoru-san . . ." Rei looked pained and a   
little surprised at the dejection in his voice. "You   
know that's not true. Usagi loves you."  
  
"Maybe," he agreed uncertainly, thoroughly   
unconvinced of that, "but it's not the same thing."  
  
Rei paused, looking over his austere   
countenance. "I don't understand," she said finally.  
  
"Then maybe you weren't meant to." He made a   
motion to continue on his way.  
  
"Hold on a minute!" Rei crackled. Stepping in   
front of Mamoru again, she threateningly glared at   
him. "You are not going to dismiss me that easily,   
Mamoru-san. Usagi-chan is my friend. You are hurting   
Usagi-chan. I hurt people who hurt my friends. Shall   
we take those statements to their logical conclusion or   
shall we continue talking like civilized adults?"  
  
Once again he stopped.  
  
"Much better," Rei mocked him. Then, softening,   
she continued, "What do you want from Usagi-chan, Mamoru-  
san? I know you love her. What good comes of hurting   
her?"  
  
He nearly cracked right there and then. "It was   
never about hurting her," he denied miserably. "I   
wanted her to be happy . . . and I . . . I could   
never . . . maybe I thought that if I just had some time   
everything would be all right and I could get it   
together, but now . . . it's too late, Rei-chan. Maybe   
if I hadn't been such a coward in the past it would've   
been easier now, but . . . I just wanted some time, Rei-  
chan, nothing else..."  
  
Rei stared at the rambling, obviously confused   
man before her. A strange feeling hung in the air   
around him, a hopelessness she never would've expected   
from Mamoru. Proud, confident Mamoru, Usagi's--and at   
times all of theirs'-strength. Rei stopped listening,   
finding she had a hard enough time comprehending what   
had already sunk into her memory. She slipped back into   
the café, leaving Mamoru on the sidewalk, and pulled out   
her cell phone.  
  
Speed-dialing the Tsukino residence, she only   
hoped Makoto was there.  
  
"Moshi moshi?"  
  
"Tsukino-san? Is Mako-chan still there?"  
  
"She just arrived, Rei-chan."  
  
"Could I speak to her?"  
  
"Just a moment." A pause.  
  
"Mako-chan?"  
  
"Forget the meeting," Rei said excitedly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Meet me at the shrine in about three hours.   
Got it?"  
  
"What is this about, Rei-chan?" Rei could hear   
Makoto scratching her head in the back.  
  
"I'll tell you when you arrive tonight. Just   
meet me then."  
  
"All right, if you say so. . . ." Makoto's   
uncertainty rang through even as Rei hung up the phone.  
  
Walking briskly through the crisp afternoon air,   
Rei single-mindedly prepared herself for the arduous   
task ahead. Maybe she shouldn't have been even   
considering this, but do it she would. The situation   
had the potential to spiral out of control; she would   
not wish it to go too far and result in some sort of   
tragedy.  
  
Because she knew why Mamoru seemed so hopeless.  
  
But she was afraid to even think the words.  
  
****  
  
Now she was sitting at the fire, quietly praying   
to the great spirits above that some answer would be   
given to her. No formal words were needed; none fit the   
situation at present. This was not an ordinary request.  
  
"Please," Rei whispered to the powers above   
her. "She is my Princess; he is my Prince. Something,   
anything! Anything to help them!"  
  
The fire surged up violently, shooting sparks   
everywhere. The blaze grew higher exponentially,   
terrifying Rei. She stared with wide, frightened, eyes,   
the violent sparks gleaming red in her violet eyes.  
  
And then she saw it.  
  
A woman, no doubt, being consumed in the fire.   
In her terror, Rei initially associated the searing   
image with Usagi, but quickly realized the form was not   
at all that of her little Princess. Too, long, too   
graceful, too--  
  
Too elegant.  
  
The swaths of aqua hair that would have   
initially allowed Rei to recognize the form as that of   
Michiru were consumed in fire. The fiery woman shrieked   
in pain; her cries caused the room to tremble. As she   
struggled and cried, often calling out for Haruka, once   
or twice for her mother, hands of fire pulled her down,   
rendering Michiru helpless against the vicious   
appendages.  
  
Tears streamed down Rei's eyes at the sight. As   
moments passed the fire began to dim, leaving way to   
turquoise smoke tendrils that filled the room with a   
sickly-sweet ocean smell. Michiru struggled less and   
less with each passing second.  
  
"Fight, Michiru-san!" Rei cried, forgetting it   
was only a vision.  
  
But fight she did not. Only moments later   
Michiru fell limp, as if a rag doll. The fiery hands   
propped her up, holding her head and body in place.  
  
Then she opened her eyes.  
  
Rei screamed.  
  
That was the moment Rei shot up from the floor   
and found the room to be back to normal, as if the scene   
had never taken place. Rei blinked, staring at the spot   
she had been lying in. Had she really seen all of   
that? Was it simply the product of an overactive   
imagination, or were other troubles brewing?  
  
With a white heart Rei ran, frantically locking   
herself in her bedroom. Not even Makoto's persistent   
knocking could make her come out. Tortured by the   
clarity and iniquity of the vision, she eventually fell   
into a light, restless sleep and remembered nothing of   
the haunting vision the next morning.  
  
****  
  
At least her father was nice enough to give her   
a ride. Usagi was certainly thankful for that much as   
she dragged herself into Algebra that morning after   
sleeping through History.  
  
Despite her mother's protestations, Usagi had   
insisted on going to school that day. After falling   
asleep at the racetrack she'd been in bed the whole   
weekend, missing her Saturday classes and Monday. She   
had a pile of homework that was waist high and no energy   
to even think about attempting it.  
  
Actually, though, she was feeling much better   
today, like the stranglehold this flu had on her had   
temporarily lifted. Smiling brightly, she held her head   
high even as she tripped into class, yet another dizzy   
spell bringing her to the floor.  
  
Minako was sitting nearby while Makoto   
languished in back. With a broad smile she sat down,   
trying to keep from falling again.  
  
The sensei took one look at her, the dark   
circles and pale little face trying so hard to act as if   
she wanted to be here, and decided to let it pass for   
once. Other students ignored her as well, sensing that   
this was what she wanted.  
  
But Minako wasn't easily driven away. Leaning   
in, she whispered, "You look terrible, Usagi-chan."  
  
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Mina-P,"   
Usagi groaned, rolling her eyes. She began to have a   
violent breathing fit, unable to take in a gasp of air   
for nearly twenty seconds. Terrifying as it was for   
herself and the students, everyone simply ignored it.  
  
When the teacher went back to his lesson, Minako   
leaned in again and asked in a very tiny voice, "What   
was his name?"  
  
"Whose name?"  
  
"The one who Mamoru-san punched out at the   
restaurant."  
  
Usagi turned white. "How do you know about   
that?"  
  
"Detective Minako always gets her man. Now what   
was his name?"  
  
Usagi stared at her. "Nick something," she   
hissed lowly. "Some American name. I don't remember   
much about that night."  
  
"Let me give you a little tip, Usagi-chan: there   
is no such thing as free lemonade."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Just thought to feed on."  
  
"You're making my head hurt." Usagi moaned and   
put her head on the desk.  
  
****  
  
"Tsukino-san?"  
  
"Hrrmm?"  
  
"Tsukino-san?"  
  
"What?" Usagi lifted her head up to face her   
sensei.  
  
"Class is over, Tsukino-san. You slept through   
the bell."  
  
"I WHAT?!" Jumping from her desk, Usagi issued   
a hurried apology. "Sensei, I'm so, soooo sorry. . . ."   
Her heart was pounding erratically, making I tough to   
choke the words out.  
  
"Tsukino-san, I've called your mother. She's   
coming to get you right now."  
  
"What?" With her fuzzy brain, Usagi was having   
a difficult time registering what sensei was saying.  
  
"Brave as it is for you to be here, you're in no   
condition to be at school, Tsukino-san. Consider it my   
good deed for the day."  
  
"Whatever," Usagi mumbled as she fell back   
asleep on the desk.  
  
****  
  
"Is she still mad at him?" Hino Rei lazily   
sipped her soda, boredly glancing over her English   
textbook.  
  
"I don't even know any more," Makoto said, head   
in her hands. "She won't talk about it at all, and I   
haven't even in Mamoru-san recently. It's like he's   
dropped off the face of the Earth."  
  
"Minako-chan said she heard Motoki-san say that   
Mamoru-san didn't go to his Organic Chem class last   
week," Rei said grimly. "It's really out of character   
for him."  
  
"Oh please," Mako groaned. "The guy's more   
unpredictable than a Chihuahua on Ritalin. I can put   
anything past him these days." Then, remembering what   
Haruka had said, she tried to clamp her mouth shut and   
stop making assumptions.  
  
"I see your point," Rei sighed, "but there's   
still something funny about the whole thing. I wish we   
had more details."  
  
Ami looked up from her Physics textbook. "Maybe   
he's been brainwashed," she offered before returning to   
the fascinating world of . . . well, neither of them   
would've known if they'd been locked in a small room and   
forced to study it for hours on end.  
  
Makoto and Rei had little devil horns on their   
heads.  
  
"I know what you're thinking and it won't work,"   
Ami said without even looking up. "Besides, it's   
messy. And you still haven't figured out where to hide   
the rest of the pieces."  
  
"You know me too well, Ami-chan."  
  
"I know you're sadistic, if that counts as   
knowing you too well."  
  
"Sometimes I hate you, Ami," Mako scowled. She   
punched her fist into her palm. "I mean, if he hurt her-  
-"  
  
"Oh, it's *way* more fascinating than that, Mako-  
tachi!" Aino Minako was standing proudly in front of   
the cheerily colored booth her friends were sitting   
in. "I went down to the restaurant myself yesterday and   
found out."  
  
"You what?" Rei asked.  
  
"The bartender said he was a Sailor V fan,"   
Minako said sweetly, wriggling her hips seductively.   
Ami rolled her eyes. "Like taking candy from a baby."   
She shoved Rei into the booth and sat down.  
  
Motoki looked up from the bar. "You guys want   
anything?"  
  
"Get me a Coke," Minako called to   
Motoki. "Anyways, it's really juicy. A little   
scary . . . well, kind of a lot scary, but. . . ."  
  
"Would you please stop bragging about how good   
the story is and just *tell* already?" Ami hissed.  
  
Everyone stared.  
  
"For Usagi-chan's sake, of course," Ami added,   
blushing furiously.  
  
"All right." Minako leaned down. "Okay, so   
they're at this really upscale restaurant in the Ginza   
district, and I guess they've been having all sorts of   
problems before this so he's kinda trying to make it up   
to her, right? Anyways, she'd asked him for, like, the   
seventh time if he's got someone on the side and so the   
mood was about as relaxed as a high colinic in Mexico--"  
  
"Leave the scary analogies out of this, Mina-  
chan," Makoto winced.  
  
"Whatever. Well, they order dinner, only she's   
really pissed off so she does something really smart--I   
gotta give her props for this one, minna-chan--she   
threatens to make a scene if he doesn't tell her what's   
going on. You know how much her beloved hates   
attracting attention. But he doesn't crack, and she   
makes good on her threat. She even through her water   
glass in his face."  
  
"Damn," Rei said proudly, "go Usagi-chan!"  
  
"Well it gets better," Minako said   
excitedly. "He storms out, so she goes and sits down at   
the bar. And there's this guy there--who, according to   
my informant, looks like he belongs in a boy band--who   
offers to buy her a 'lemonade.'"  
  
"And the problem with this is. . . ." Ami   
prompted.  
  
"You've never had a hard lemonade? The stuff   
tastes great, but it's really loaded. Well, Usagi-chan   
takes a shine to the stuff and knocks back about FIVE   
of 'em--"  
  
"FIVE!? I've seen the girl flip out after half   
a glass of champagne!" Rei screeched.  
  
"Ah, Rei-chan," Ami groaned, "you're making a   
scene."  
  
It was around this time that the senshi realized   
that Motoki, Unazuki, and the twenty some-odd customers   
milling around the Crown Arcade were all listening   
rather carefully.  
  
"Eh," Minako cringed, "I guess I've attracted a   
crowd."  
  
"Go on," Unazuki said, grinning, "everyone else   
was curious about Mamoru-san and Usagi-chan's fight; you   
might as well finish now. Call it a public service."  
  
"All right," Minako said, flashing a toothy   
smile and standing up to better serve her audience (the   
three senshi put their heads on the table), "I guess   
Usagi-chan was on a total adrenaline rush during the   
first three, but after the fourth, she, ah, loses her   
inhibitions. The girl started flirting like crazy with   
the 'Backside Boy' next to her--"  
  
"That's a 'Backstreet' Boy, Mina-chan."  
  
"--all cooing and batting her eyes, and totally   
mouthing off about Mamoru-san. Well, guess who walks   
back in? He felt *sorry* about the argument." Minako   
feigned pouting and puppy-dog eyes, which had the other   
senshi rolling on the floor. She threw in whimpering   
noises for extra comedic effect. "So he stands there,   
and watches his girlfriend with the Backside Boy for   
about five minutes--that is, until the baby-faced one   
got a little too friendly."  
  
"What did he do, Mina?" Rei asked carefully,   
refusing to look up.  
  
An overdramatic pause ensued.  
  
"Oh, it's bad, isn't it?" Makoto's muffled voice   
floated up.  
  
The blonde took a deep, melodramatic   
breath. "Full palm on the thigh," Minako said slickly,   
smiling brashly.  
  
The entire arcade froze.  
  
"And up the skirt," Minako added abruptly,   
trying to get a reaction from the crowd.  
  
Ami shook her head in disbelief. "You're   
actually serious, aren't you?"  
  
"Dead," the blonde solemnly swore. "Hey, would   
I lie about this?"  
  
"Yes," the entire arcade replied.  
  
"Well, I'm not," Minako said haughtily, sticking   
her nose in the air, "and before Usagi-chan could react,   
our Backside Boy had a broken nose and needed six   
stitches."  
  
"WHAT!?" the rest of the arcade screeched. The   
new information awoke them from their previous stupor.  
  
"Is this one of those 'what's wrong with this   
picture' situations?!" Makoto cried, trying to process   
the new information.  
  
Minako sat back down. "I can't explain it   
either," the blonde shrugged. "At any rate, the guy   
decided against pressing charges 'cause he didn't want   
his wife to find out about the incident. Nice, ne? But   
the bartender isn't complaining. Business has been up   
40% at the restaurant since the story leaked."  
  
"I guess there really is no such thing as bad   
publicity," Rei shrugged and rested her head on her   
palms. "What I can't believe is that Mamoru-san would   
do something like that."  
  
After checking to make certain that everyone had   
gone back to their business, Minako leaned down and   
added, "That's not the part that worries me. I guess   
when he was pummeling the guy he was screaming something   
about not letting him hurt her again."  
  
"Again? What do you. . . ."  
  
"I checked with Usagi-chan," Mina   
interrupted. "She'd never met the guy at the bar   
before. My best guess is that neither has Mamoru-san.   
At least that would make the most sense. Since they   
were in the back of the restaurant, you couldn't see or   
hear the fight from the bar. And since the Backside Boy   
came in after Mamoru-san and Usagi-chan did, he wouldn't   
have any idea that she was taken. Usagi-chan threw her   
ring at Mamoru-san, too. There was more, you could   
tell, but Usagi-chan wouldn't give me any more details."  
  
"That *is* strange," Ami mused, the textbook   
long forgotten. "So first he breaks his promise to only   
stay one semester at Harvard, then he mysteriously cuts   
the trip short; he acts cold and distant for the past   
month and won't tell her what the problem is, but   
smashes in the face of a guy who had no honest idea that   
she was previously engaged?"  
  
"Someone's got a few screws loose," Makoto   
snorted.  
  
"And I'm sure you'd love to screw them back in,   
Mako-chan," Rei said impatiently, "but this isn't really   
the time to have visions of decapitated Mamorus dancing   
through your head. I'm really concerned."  
  
"Don't be," Makoto rolled her eyes. "I'm sure   
Mamoru-san is once again having commitment issues, or   
some weird dream that's warning him to stay away from   
her, or he's got some stick up his you-know-where about   
her 'lack of immaturity.' He'll get over it." Makoto   
had quickly figured out that flippancy was the best way   
to ease her fellow senshi's minds.  
  
"Are you sure?" Ami asked uncertainly. "This   
does seem a little, ah, excessive."  
  
Minako shrugged. "Mako's right. If anything   
else pops up, I'll keep you posted. Now if you'll   
excuse me," she whipped out a compact and fixed her   
lipstick, "'Jiro-san is waiting." Minako veritably   
bounced out.  
  
No one knew what to say after that.  
  
No one but Motoki, that is. As Ami and Rei   
left, still deep in discussion, Mako's plan to follow   
was stopped by a firm grip on her wrist.  
  
"Mako-chan?"  
  
Makoto's heart was beating erratically. With a   
dreamy gaze, she turned and murmured, "Yes, Motoki-san?"  
  
Motoki took an unsteady breath. As much as he   
hated to betray his friend, sometimes a person had to be   
cruel to be kind. After all, Mamoru had a long history   
of slipping into intense depressions, times when he shut   
out everyone and everything but the demons inside his   
mind. At times like those, Motoki had learned the hard   
way, the first thing Mamoru wanted was to be left alone,   
and the last thing he needed was acquiescence. But he'd   
still kept his mouth shut through the years, through the   
dark spells he'd never breathed a word of, through the   
particularly dim days in which Mamoru had fallen head   
over heels in love with Usagi yet persistently drove her   
away with his tongue, through their odd breakup early in   
the relationship and the scars it left on Mamoru's   
heart, through even Mamoru's first suicide attempt,   
long, long ago, when he was too young to have even   
understood what 'suicide' really meant.  
  
And yet. . . . "Nothing," Motoki mumbled,   
letting Makoto go on her way.   
  
****  
  
The cold night air was a shock to Mamoru's   
heated form. Sweaty and trembling, he paced aimlessly   
through the eerie quiet of the city, desperately trying   
to pull himself together.  
  
A couple out for a romantic walk in the   
moonlight watched the young man whispering something   
frantically to himself, moving in an odd, disconcerted   
manner, and wondered about his sanity and their safety.   
Stepping away, they let him go on his way.  
  
Mamoru himself was not convinced. He moaned   
softly, quietly longing for Usagi's soft arms around   
him, her lips upon his, something, anything to get this   
demon out of him.  
  
*Murderer.*  
  
He cried aloud.  
  
*She is pure. You never deserved her.*  
  
Now he found himself at her home, staring   
miserably up at her balcony. Against his will his hand   
crept into his shirt and pulled out a rose, transforming   
him into Tuxedo Kamen.  
  
*She hates you for your very love of her.*  
  
Steps that were not his dashed up through the   
open doors of the balcony and into her room, surveying   
the feverish young girl before his eyes. Hands reached   
out to touch her, lips pressed against her.  
  
Usagi groaned softly but did not awaken. Tuxedo   
Kamen took this as a hint, though, and pulled away.  
  
"Mamo-chan," she uttered softly, miserably.   
Again he came closer, unable to resist. His lips drank   
hers in hungrily before he broke off, desperate to stay,   
but too guilty to do so.  
  
"Wait." He turned back around.  
  
Her eyes were open, luminous in the weak light.   
She smiled seductively at him. He gulped.  
  
"Where have you been?" she purred, her long hair   
pooling around her. "I missed you."  
  
That was it. He wasn't quite sure how exactly   
it happened, when his clothes came off, or hers for that   
matter, but they did and the next thing he knew they   
were making love in the pink bed with bunnies splayed   
over the sheets, wild, with total abandon.  
  
The next thing he knew, he was lying on the bed   
with Usagi, physically sated but still missing   
something. He was utterly exhausted, but somehow he   
felt better than he had in a long, long time.  
  
But it wasn't meant to last. Usagi primly got   
off the bed, replaced her nightgown, and said   
curtly, "Now get out."  
  
He reeled. "Did you--"  
  
"If you can do it, then so can I," she hissed,   
smoothing out a pigtail. "Leave."  
  
"Usa-ko--"  
  
"DON'T 'USA-KO' ME!" she screamed out of the   
blue. "Stop acting like you care. Love's a weak word,   
right?"  
  
"It's weak," he agreed miserably, "it doesn't   
come anywhere near describing what I--"  
  
"Don't." She put a hand on his lips. "Don't   
say it, Mamo-chan. Please understand . . . I don't know   
if I can do this any longer."  
  
"Do what?" he asked naively.  
  
Usagi stilled, eyes lowered to the ground. "I'm   
not sure being with you is worth the consequences."  
  
"Oh." He swallowed harshly and collected his   
clothes in silence. Once he had enough on to get home,   
he transformed into Tuxedo Kamen and spirited himself   
away.  
  
Back in the night the cold now seemed almost   
warm. He was shivering from within, lonely and feeling   
very drained, wondering hazily at his own actions.   
Thinking was painful, something reserved for moments of   
complete necessity, but right now he dared it.  
  
Back in his apartment the feeling grew worse.   
The oppressive air pushed him down, left him hopeless   
and lost.  
  
Something was happening to him. He could feel   
himself falling away from the edge of sanity, already a   
precarious tightrope he walked, and slip into some   
strange mania, almost madness but not quite.  
  
Or maybe he was already there. Closing his eyes   
against the pain, he mentally tried to fight off the   
frenzied upsurge of lunacy clawing so cruelly at the   
edge of his psyche, but realized he was fighting a lost   
battle. An animal moan of rage ripped from him.  
  
*You're weary of fighting.*  
  
Whenever the floods were at their worst the   
gentle voice pulled him back down. Something about the   
voice soothed him, as if it were looking out for his   
best interests.  
  
*Poor Endymion. Alone and afraid. Are you   
tired?*  
  
He nodded, even though the voice came from   
within.  
  
*Let go of it. Just for a little while.*  
  
His eyes began to close. He tottered woozily on   
his feet, still trying to hang on.  
  
*I will protect you.*  
  
Tuxedo Kamen dropped to the ground of the   
apartment, unable to hold out any longer.  
  
*I won't let anyone hurt you.*  
  
He fell asleep, dragged into the depths by the   
mysterious new power inside him.  
  
****  
  
Never fear, people, more will be on the way   
soon. Just nosh on this for now and I'll get more to   
you later!  
  
And remember, NEW e-mail: tennyo@attbi.com  
  
That poor box . . . I think it needs cheering   
up. Why don't you send it some nice feedback? 


	5. Benedictus

Santa baby, a BMW Z3 too, metallic red . . .   
  
*Sighs* I wish. Ah, all y'all are getting the super-sweet present,   
not me. These are last revisions, and, provided that they arrive from the   
editor in time (hint hint), I'll 'gift' the new chap on Christmas day. Isn't   
that just sweet?  
  
Once again, this fic is rated R. I would adore you people if you   
could fill my poor, lonely new e-mail box with lots and lost of yummy   
feedback. It has issues (poor box), but feedback would help bolster its  
self-esteem.  
  
Disclaimer: Why do we even put these? They technically offer no   
legal protection . . . maybe it's a psychological benefit? Maybe no one   
cares? Whatever. The obvious is obvious.  
  
  
Requiem for a Soldier: Benedictus (4b/7)  
Author: Ai  
E-mail: tennyo@attbi.com  
  
  
One lap, two. How many laps had it been now?  
  
She heard the crowds cheering, or were they?  
  
It wasn't something she could be certain of.  
  
There wasn't much she could be certain of anymore.  
  
Was that three? Or was it two?  
  
Whatever happened to paying attention to the road?  
  
Then again, what happened to that old exhilaration, the wind in her hair,   
the pure adrenaline rush, the speed pounding at her like a furious beast?  
  
What happened to it?  
  
Faded away?  
  
Or maybe the speed didn't seem so appealing anymore?  
  
Because she was tired of ignoring it.  
  
She was tired of running.  
  
She hated the past but couldn't escape it.  
  
Five? Six?  
  
Because sooner or later the past was going to catch up to her.  
  
Did the number of laps matter?  
  
Did she care any longer?  
  
Sooner or later the past would win.  
  
Because sooner or later she was bound to crash.  
  
*******  
  
"Ten'oh-san?"  
  
Haruka lifelessly tugged her helmet off, trying to clear her mind. It   
wasn't easy, but somehow putting all her efforts to such a single-minded   
task made her feel better.  
  
"Ten'oh-san." Matsumomo Koichii, her head mechanic, was staring at her   
mournfully. "Ten'oh-san," he said for the third time, "what happened out   
there?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Haruka looked at him in confusion. "I don't   
understand."  
  
"You took fourth out there," the man said, clearly confused. "Are you sick   
or something?"  
  
"Did I?" Haruka asked vaguely, her gray-green eyes staring at some unknown   
point in the distance. "I didn't even know."  
  
The man looked afraid. "Are you sure you're all right, Tenoh-san?" he   
asked, genuinely concerned.  
  
"No," she said very clearly. "I'm not okay at all, Koichii-san. Not a   
bit."  
  
*******  
  
When Haruka trudged back into her home that night she had something   
definite, something resolute to focus on.  
  
There she was, sitting at the piano. The cool pink light of the sunset   
framed her soft figure, making her look, at first glance, as if she were an   
angel on high. But a second glance was far more revealing: the once smooth,   
graceful lines of her face and body were cold and harsh; her movements were   
rough and abrupt. The set of her mouth was thin and a bit cruel, her eyes   
sharp, her soft voice cutting as she sang.  
  
'Fallen' was too kind a phrase to describe Michiru's transformation. Her   
lover didn't say anything though . . . Haruka was not afraid, at least not yet.   
"I just figured it out," she pronounced sharply. "I figured out what I was   
upset about."  
  
"And I'm sure you realized the foolishness of such anger," Michiru finished   
coldly.  
  
"You promised."  
  
"What?" the aqua-haired woman barked.  
  
"You *promised* me you'd be there."  
  
Michiru turned around. "So?"  
  
"Well," Haruka glared at her. "Promises are promises."  
  
"What's THAT supposed to mean?" Michiru sneered dismissively.  
  
"I . . . " Haruka was at a loss for words. How could she . . . did she   
really . . .? "Doesn't that mean anything to you?" she squeaked miserably.  
  
The woman at the piano paused. "Why do you care so much if I'm there?"   
Michiru asked, genuinely confused. "What does it mean to you?"  
  
Haruka cried aloud, unable to stop herself. "What do you mean why do I   
care?!" she exclaimed in horror. Tears burned in her eyes but she ignored   
them, steeling herself against their threat. She would not, could not cry   
in front of Michiru. "I love you. I thought you loved me, Michiru . . . I   
mean, was I wrong? You do love me, don't you?"  
  
"Of *course* I love you, Haruka," Michiru admonished her, "but you are   
taking this way too seriously. This race has nothing to do with my love for   
you. You're being irrational."  
  
"I can't change the way I feel, Michiru."  
  
Her face twisted up. "Try," Michiru snapped, sitting back down at the   
bench.  
  
She began to play again, the rhythm of the song soon taking on that of   
Haruka's tears. The woman sat there, dumb with sadness and horror.  
  
"What are you staring at?" Michiru growled. "Leave me in peace."  
  
"You don't care, do you?" Haruka whispered in wonder and dismay. "You   
really don't give a damn."  
  
Again she spun around. "You're right about that, Haruka," Michiru   
snarled. "Love is not some cure-all. I need to do this, for myself and for   
my mother, and love or no, the only thing I see when I look at you is a   
distraction."  
  
*******  
  
Going to bed was necessary. Sleeping was optional. Haruka had learned   
this rather painful lesson a while back. There were times when a hundred   
hours in a bed, simply lying there, no matter how exhausted one was, yielded   
no result. So it was natural she was a little depleted in energy the next   
day.  
  
She was losing everything that was precious to her. Granted, Haruka   
valued very little in the grand scheme of things, but what she did value she   
treasured with a vitality that could not be matched. Haruka knew what it   
meant to have nothing when everything was at your feet. If life owed her   
anything, it owed her this. And even though she kept telling herself she   
wouldn't let go without a fight, Haruka wasn't certain she had the strength   
to do that any longer.  
  
Because Michiru *was* her strength. Michiru was the reason Haruka still   
believed that things might be all right. Michiru had led her to a place   
where she could be happy, no matter how hard she'd fought initially. And   
Michiru could take that away in the blink of an eye.  
  
"Haruka-san?"  
  
Around now Haruka realized she was sitting on a bench in the park at 5 AM.   
How she had gotten there she was uncertain of, but gotten there she had.   
Now Rei was sitting on the other side, looking nervously into the pond.  
  
"Why are you here?" Haruka intoned emotionlessly, staring into the same   
clear waters.  
  
"Because otherwise I'll forget."  
  
Haruka looked up.  
  
"There was this dream," Rei began unsteadily, "or maybe I was awake. I   
can't remember. I can't remember, Haruka-san," Rei repeated, starting to   
panic. The girl's eyes were wild; she was clearly fearful and tortured. "I   
saw Michiru-san, burning in hellfire . . . being dragged down by...I don't   
know." Rei squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out visions of the   
painful memory. "The room filled with smoke. I was scared, Haruka-san, so   
scared I didn't know what to do with myself."  
  
Haruka mused over this. "Are you saying you had a vision?" she asked,   
forcing herself to process.  
  
Rei nodded dumbly. "After a while she gave up, Haruka-san. I think she   
was tired of fighting."  
  
"I see. . . . " But she didn't see. Haruka sighed. "Rei-chan . . . if   
you were in a jungle with your father--"  
  
"I wouldn't go anywhere with my father." Rei was livid.  
  
"That's not the point," Haruka protested. "It's from this book. You're   
in the jungle with your father and your best friend and a deadly cobra bites   
both of them. You have one dose of antiseptic, and by the time you get help   
it'll be too late to save the other. Which one would you save?"  
  
"I'd say," Rei said slowly, "that you should go see Usagi-chan."  
  
"What?" Haruka looked confused.  
  
"Just what I said." Rei stood up. "And next time, try putting 'lover' in   
place of 'father.'"  
  
*******  
  
So she did. Not the father bit, but visit Usagi. Haruka had to admit to   
herself it was strange to interact so personally with the senshi on such a   
consistent basis. For a long time Michiru had been enough for her. But now   
Michiru was slipping away . . . and Haruka knew sooner or later she would have   
to face the truth.  
  
But not today. And probably not tomorrow. Fear followed her like a   
faithful dog, howled at her sadness and whined at her melancholy. Not even   
the senshi of wind could run away from her fears.  
  
She stepped inside the oppressive house, through the eerily drab halls,   
through silence and gloom.  
  
But to her surprise, Usagi was sitting at her desk, faithfully applying   
herself to the task of doodling all over her Algebra homework.  
  
Haruka leaned over Usagi's shoulder and looked over the image. "That's   
pretty good, neko-chan," she commented lightly.  
  
Usagi stilled momentarily, then turned around. "Haruka-san," she said   
quietly, still not looking up.  
  
"Have you ever considered becoming a manga-ka?" Haruka asked evenly.   
"With your imagination and skill--"  
  
"You're not here to talk about my pictures, Haruka-san."  
  
The voice was so cold Haruka shivered. Forcing a smile, she replied,   
"You're right, neko-chan. Are you up for a walk?"  
  
*******  
  
"The leaves are almost gone."  
  
"I like it better when they're all gone, actually," Haruka admitted to the   
girl at her side.  
  
Usagi stared at the slate sky with its foamy overhead and the skeletal   
trees, each with a few droopy leaves on them. The winds were oddly gentle,   
but with a crisp bite that reminded the two senshi that this mellifluous   
interlude would not last forever.  
  
"Do you really?" Usagi went back to Haruka's comment.  
  
The poised elder senshi wasn't her usual laid-back self, Usagi could tell   
that much. There was something in the way Haruka carried herself usually   
that no longer appeared to be with her, some sort of supreme   
confidence...something special, no doubt, and whatever it was needed to   
return right away: one look in the woman's eyes and Usagi knew despair.  
  
"Of course," Haruka replied lifelessly. "There's something . . .   
something cruel about it."  
  
The little odango atama leaned against one of the 'cruel' trees, trying to   
call off a sudden onslaught of vertigo. "I don't understand," she stated,  
taking in a deep breath.  
  
"Well. . . . " Haruka looked up at two droopy leaves still persistently   
clinging to the tree. "Have you ever known what's it's like to lose   
everything?"  
  
Usagi didn't answer. Haruka looked over and saw the tears glimmering in   
her eyes.  
  
"That was a bad question, wasn't it?"  
  
The small girl nodded dumbly, trying to hold back a sob. She had learned   
what it meant to have nothing in the battle with Chaos. With her flushed   
face and the beads of sweat developing on her brow as well, Haruka began to   
worry for the little Princess she was sworn to protect at all costs.  
  
Haruka, realizing this was where Usagi was going, sighed and thought   
again. "Neko . . . didn't you believe we could be saved, though?"  
  
Usagi's looked at her expectantly. "Of course," she replied   
incredulously, surprised that Haruka did not realize the extent of her faith   
that things could still work out.  
  
"Then you didn't lose everything," Haruka explained. "You had something   
left to hold on to: your hope, ne? That's what those leaves are."  
  
Her head cocked in confusion. "What's wrong with having hope?" she   
inquired, honestly confused.  
  
"It's not that simple, neko-chan," Haruka defended patiently. "Hope is   
all right, up to a point. Eventually you get to a point where your hope gets   
all worn and tattered. But you still cling to it. It's not healthy."  
  
She turned around and stared at the tree in question. "But trees always   
spring new leaves," she argued, though her voice was in no way antagonistic.  
  
"When you have nothing, there's nowhere to go but up. Sometimes you have   
to shed your leaves. But around this time of year the trees still cling to their   
leaves."  
  
Haruka might have continued with the overextended metaphor had Usagi not   
suddenly dropped to the grass, panting lightly as she clutched the long   
grass. In her panic, Haruka dipped next to her, watching Usagi frantically   
try to catch her breath.  
  
After a moment, Usagi's hand came to her heart, quietly clasping the   
fabric of her shirt. This, for whatever reason, calmed her down. Haruka, in a   
pathetic attempt to feel useful, gently rubbed Usagi's back, offering gentle   
encouragement.  
  
Once she felt better, Usagi stood up rather shakily. "I hate it when that   
happens," she muttered, still trying to stay steady.  
  
Sharp green-gray eyes focused on her. "Did this begin recently?" Haruka   
asked suspiciously as the knowledge that something was very wrong permeated   
her thoughts.  
  
Unsurprisingly, Usagi nodded. "I'm going to the doctor tomorrow," she   
enlightened Haruka, "for a follow-up. Last time the doctor didn't find   
anything wrong."  
  
"Is that so?" Haruka raised an eyebrow. Usagi nodded very solemnly.  
  
"Well. . . . " Trying to lighten the mood, Haruka swept Usagi into her   
arms, grinning wolfishly all the while.  
  
"Haruka-san!" Usagi giggled. "I am not an invalid, you know."  
  
"Too bad," Haruka smirked. "I can't afford your passing out again.   
You're going home via the Ten'oh Express."  
  
Laughing, Usagi stopped struggling and sank in a little. Despite the many   
odd looks, the journey continued smoothly, no doubt in part because of the   
vicious glares Haruka gave overly curious rubberneckers.  
  
Usagi grew very quiet, almost as if the silence itself sucked away all   
human presence. The silence bothered Haruka; it seemed unnatural to her.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts, neko-chan?"  
  
She sniffed. "You sound like Mina-chan."  
  
"It's a Western expression, neko-chan. Leave Minako-chan's malapropisms   
out of this."  
  
Usagi sighed. "I'd rather not talk about it."  
  
"Suit yourself."  
  
Haruka continued carrying Usagi, keeping her pace steady and smooth.   
Strangely enough, the careful pace lulled her Usagi to sleep. This resulted   
in Haruka tightening her grip carefully, as if cradling a precious child and   
not an independent-minded Princess.  
  
She left her in the grass by the back door. It was still light and   
somehow she knew Tsukino Kenji would not welcome her presence. Haruka respected   
Usagi's father on many levels; he was more perceptive than anyone really   
realized, including Usagi's mother. She had watched Kenji's simmering   
disposition when the Inner Senshi were near and the barely civil tone with   
which he treated the Outers in their few interactions. Mamoru was not   
tolerated under any circumstances. Somehow, Kenji knew his little girl was   
a part of something and if the nine of them would just leave her alone,   
maybe his daughter wouldn't have so many of the secret trials she carried on   
her shoulders.  
  
The weight of the world was too much for that tiny set of shoulder blades.   
Even Atlas and Hercules tired of its mass. And yet on those little shoulders lay   
grueling exigency.  
  
But Haruka overestimated her Princess. Throughout the years she had come   
to believe that Usagi would transcend any and all obstacles.  
  
Even though it was the most important of any obstacle thrown in Tsukino   
Usagi's way, the one that faced her now it was also the one she might never   
conquer.  
  
*******  
  
The wind still didn't pick up, Haruka noticed as she walked away from the   
Tsukino residence. Something about the still air made her feel hollow. She   
mentally groped for something to hold onto but found nothing. If she wanted   
a distraction of sorts, she'd have to make her own.  
  
Pulling out a minute cell phone, Haruka pressed '7' on the speed dial and   
anxiously waited for someone to pick up on the other line.  
  
"Moshi moshi, Tomoe residence."  
  
"Tomoe-sensei?"  
  
"Yes?" The doctor sounded confused. "Who is this?"  
  
"Is Hotaru-chan there?"  
  
She could almost hear his confusion. "Sure, she is . . . who is this?"  
"Tell her that Haruka-papa is on the phone."  
  
A scratch on the head, padded footsteps, muffled voices. She gripped the   
phone unmercifully, waiting for Hotaru's voice. More stifled talking hummed   
in the background.  
  
"Haruka-papa?"  
  
"Hotaru-chan!" Haruka cried in barely disguised delight. "How are you?"  
  
"I should ask the same question."  
  
Haruka's face dropped. "You're very perceptive, you know," she murmured   
into the speaker.  
  
"It comes with the territory."  
  
She sounded so *old* . . . just like a senshi of Saturn should. Haruka   
rubbed her temples in bewilderment.  
  
"Why did you call, Haruka-papa?"  
  
Now she couldn't speak. A strange numbness washed over her muscles,   
allowing the phone to slip through her fingers. It dropped onto the   
pavement with the fierce clatter of breaking electronics.  
  
"Haruka-papa?" Though scratchy from the damage it had received from the   
fall, Hotaru's voice continued nonetheless. With trembling fingers, Haruka   
picked up the phone, snapped it shut, and stepped unsteadily to her car.  
  
Across the line, Hotaru simply sighed and shook her head.  
  
*******  
  
There a vague fog twisting about the house when Haruka drove up. With a   
scowl, she braced herself for the horrid clank of Michiru composing at the   
piano.  
  
To her surprise, however, Michiru was sitting by a window, holding a small   
object at her chest. Clearly something outside fascinated her.  
  
The scene she was so pretty Haruka almost didn't want to disturb her . . .   
almost. Right now reminded her how much she missed her beloved's warm arms   
wrapped around her. Creeping stealthily to the windowsill, Haruka managed   
to lay herself down before Michiru noticed anything. By that time, there   
was no use preventing Haruka's head from being placed in her silken lap.  
  
"What're you looking at?" Haruka asked lazily, smiling up at the pale   
Nereid she loved so dearly.  
  
Michiru lightly stroked Haruka's cheek with a smooth, perfectly manicured   
fingernail. "The sea is so rough today, ne?" she asked uncertainly, as if   
waiting for Haruka's agreement.  
  
Haruka leaned up to look outside. "You're right," she agreed. "It does   
seem a bit on the churlish side."  
  
The thick strands of aqua hair trailed around Michiru's chest. "I think   
it's absolutely lovely," she said softly, staring in fascination.  
  
"What, another overextended metaphor?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Nothing." Haruka placed her head back in her lover's lap.  
  
Michiru stared out for another moment by saying, "It's never the same the   
next day, you know. Wouldn't it be nice if we could be the same way?"  
  
"I never thought about it in those terms," Haruka said honestly.  
  
"Of course not," she conceded knowingly. "Change was never your style.   
You liked to go beyond, right? Stay a step ahead."  
  
"I used to. Now I don't know what to think." The pain and confusion   
Haruka was feeling was all too clear on her face.  
  
Soft lips curled into what appeared at first glance to be a smile. At   
very least Haruka interpreted it that way.  
  
"Sometimes you have to start over," Michiru said. "Like now. I've been   
horrible to you, haven't I?"  
  
For a moment, Haruka reeled. Michiru's tone was saccharine, too sickly   
for Haruka. But the words themselves were what Haruka was longing to hear, and   
she fell upon them like a dying man in the desert who had just come across   
an oasis.  
  
Being very careful, Haruka responded by saying, "It takes two to tango.   
Maybe I was wrong about this whole Requiem project being a bad idea. It   
seems to be making you very happy."  
  
"Mm-hmm. I finished another movement today," she announced, smiling   
genuinely.  
  
"That's nice, koibito," Haruka praised her. "What's that you're   
holding?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The item by your chest."  
  
"Oh." Michiru revealed the star locket in her hand. "It's . . .   
comforting, in a strange way. This little locket really reminds a person   
how powerful love can be."  
  
"You said it." Haruka sat up and placed her lips on Michiru's carefully.   
Happily, Michiru kissed her an equal vigor, tossing the locket aside.  
  
Neither was really interested in moving, and the padded bench of the sill   
made the area all the more convenient. Smiling, Michiru's lips descended as   
she slowly began to unbutton Haruka's shirt. Popping the blonde out of her   
bra, Haruka moaned softly as Michiru took a gentle hand to her breast.  
  
Delighted by the response, Michiru continued her ministrations for a long   
while, until a simple kiss had dissolved into a desperate, passionate   
lovemaking neither ever forgot. Sated, Haruka nestled Michiru in the crook   
of her arm and watched out the window.  
  
"Tell me about your mother," Haruka enjoined Michiru as she watched the   
tide roll back out.  
  
"What was that?" Michiru mumbled sleepily.  
  
"This piece is for her, right? I want to know about her."  
  
"Love . . ." Michiru placed a gentle peck on Haruka's navel. "Whatever   
happened to leaving the past behind?"  
  
"Maybe I want it to catch up," Haruka replied very seriously.  
  
Michiru laughed, but the sound was forced. "We had an agreement,   
Haruka-chan," she articulated carefully. "What's past is past. Now only   
the future concerns us."  
  
"But this whole work is because--"  
  
She never did finish that thought. Once Michiru began again with   
explorations, leaving Haruka in muddy haze of pleasure and paranoia.  
  
`*******  
  
"The blood work shows nothing, Tsukino-san. There is nothing on the X-  
ray, either."  
  
"Sensei, there is clearly something wrong with my daughter--"  
  
"We don't have all the tests from the lab yet, Tsukino-san. Not all   
possibilities are exhausted. I am, however, disturbed by this new   
development."  
  
Dr. Izuhara was very old, very fat, and very pretentious. But for all his   
delusions of grandeur he was a terrific doctor and surprisingly easy to get   
along with at times. The man's erratic persona had amused Usagi over the   
years. It failed today, however. His countenance was grim.  
  
"Usagi-san's 'attacks' are something noteworthy. It would be in her best   
interest if we monitored the situation more carefully. . . ."  
  
Luna was very good at reading lips. Her sharp eyes allowed her to note   
the small, subtle differences between the most similar sound formations. With a   
sigh, though, she turned away from the window.  
  
During the Silver Millennium, Luna had been linked to the ginzuishou so   
she could sense its being used. As of late she had noticed a slight drain of   
the crystal, something that wasn't as abnormal as it seemed. The crystal   
was so in tune with Usagi's heart that the little odango rarely realized the   
many subtle ways the crystal made itself available. Like now.  
  
What had bothered Luna was the rate that the usage was increasing without   
Usagi's commentary. All the cat knew was that the extra energy was going   
towards maintaining some sort of physical function, perhaps fighting off   
whatever was happening to the blonde's heart.  
  
But the crystal was unreliable. In her weakened condition, maintaining   
that drainage was bound to cause a shortage. And when that day came . . .  
Luna sighed. The consequences could easily be dire for Usagi.  
  
Luna stepped off the ledge, lost in thought.  
  
*******  
  
It was a perfectly normal scenario. Well, maybe not as normal as usual,   
because Mamoru was seated farther back than his regular front-of-middle area,   
designed to be close without being inconspicuous. Back-of-middle was a more   
accurate assessment. But that wasn't odd, not to the students at least.   
Mamoru lived his life so that he would not be noticed. His exceptional   
abilities and own ambitions played a poor trick on him here. People watched   
him, if not because he was incredibly good-looking and brilliant, but   
because they could never figure out what he was going to do next.  
  
Advanced English Literature. It was a cover for Analyze Chiba Mamoru 101.   
Not that he noticed, or maybe not that he *wanted* to noticed. But that   
wasn't his concern. If it had been, he'd be very depressed.  
  
So he tried to concentrate on Berry-sensei's lecture. Really, he did.   
Blasted woman had a penchant for poetry, especially that which hailed from   
the Elizabethan era. If he had to read another of Shakespeare's sonnets   
he'd bore his eyes out with dull pencils. Milton's "Paradise Lost" had been   
an almost eerie relief.  
  
Actually, her specialty was really love poetry, something Berry-sensei   
relished with an almost obsessive fascination. She got a bit syrupy when it   
was discussed in class and was always encouraging the boys to recite it to   
their girlfriends, claiming it would revert any woman into a helpless puddle   
at their feet.  
  
Usagi wouldn't have understood a word of it, but Mamoru did not doubt the   
truth in the statement. But thinking about Usagi made him feel hollow and   
lost, so he tried not to do it. There was something inborn in him that   
rebelled against the idea that a woman's love and companionship was   
essential to feel complete, but a larger part of him was beginning to   
realize that, like it or not, it was necessary--and perhaps not so terrible,   
if said woman forgave him for his long list of sins.  
  
That was a foolish course, and he knew it. Sooner or later he'd have to   
face the truth. But right now he wanted to pretend it didn't exist . . .  
  
"Chiba-san!"  
  
He snapped to attention. "Yes?" he asked warily, watching the frazzled   
teacher carefully. "Did you want something?"  
  
She gave him a Look. "How about your attention?" she said icily,   
thoroughly putting him in his place. He felt sufficiently cowed, which   
garnered snickers from his classmates.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Mamoru forced himself to pay attention. It was all   
right as a distraction, not as nice as submerging himself in a little world   
where the pain seemed a million miles away--but then again, so did any   
sparse threads of happiness, little threads he once clutched frantically as   
of late as his emotional state had slowly collapsed under its own weight.   
Escapism was a gift of God.  
  
"Chiba-san!"  
  
She really sounded quite irritable. He wanted to pay attention, he really   
did. But forcing his attention wasn't working.  
  
Mamoru flashed the teacher a million-watt smile, which was not really a   
smile, but she didn't know that, so the point was moot. She smiled and   
offered him one of her own, far less dazzling but at least showed her own   
willingness to let bygones be bygones if he *would just pay attention.*  
  
Testing him, Berry-sensei said sweetly, "Then I suppose you would be   
willing to help us out with our analysis of the fourth stanza?"  
  
"Stanza?" He blinked.  
  
"Of the poem."  
  
"Oh." Suddenly the world seemed foggy and viscous; he struggled somewhat   
unsuccessfully to grab a hold of reality and perform the task.  
  
With a thick, unsteady voice, he began to read:  
"Dull sublunary lovers' love  
--Whose soul is sense--cannot admit  
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove  
The thing which elemented it."  
  
Something about the words nauseated him. He clutched the desk in front   
of him, trying to keep in tact.  
  
"That's a lovely reading, Chiba-san, but what does it mean?"  
  
Frantically he scanned the collection of letters that preceded the stanza   
in question. "Asvirtuousmenpassmildlyawayandwhispertotheirsoulstogo . . . "   
The letters were nothing more than random marks on the page after that.   
He took a deep breath as his heart began to race.  
  
Sensei raised her eyebrows. "Chiba-san? We'll get back to you." She   
decided to give one of her best students some credit, despite his general   
inability to give an honest criticism of a love poem. She'd long figured   
out that he had issues and was tempted to suggest that he take Psychology with   
her good friend Hiranaka Saki, who would've had a field day with this one.  
  
As another student began to explain the stanza, Mamoru quietly rubbed his   
temples. What was affecting him so? Something in the air? He tried to   
focus, see if time had passed, when the class ended.  
  
"If they be two, they are two so . . . "  
  
Mamoru felt his heart race to new heights.  
  
"As stiff twin compasses are two . . . "  
  
A sudden stab of blinding light and pain attacked the corner of his eye.   
He moaned softly, trying to mentally clamp the waves of pain going through   
him.  
  
"Chiba-san?"  
  
It suddenly stopped. All the pain, all the heartache. He was . . . empty.  
  
Or was he? The new emotion scared him to bits. With some random mumble   
he excused himself, dropping his books twice because his hands quaked too hard   
to hold onto them properly. He had to get away.  
  
"Such wilt thou be to me, who must.  
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;  
Thy firmness makes my circle just,  
And makes me end where I begun."  
  
*********  
  
"Are you sure it was Mamoru-san?"  
  
"Dead," she said very seriously. "I felt him splinter."  
  
"You're getting to be very good at this."  
  
"I hope that's not a compliment."  
  
"Don't worry, it's not."  
  
"Good."  
  
There was silence on both ends of the phone. "Haruka-papa called too."  
  
"Did she?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did you tell her anything?"  
  
"She hung up pretty quickly. She's . . . not doing well."  
  
"As expected. It's a little ironic that this is affecting her more deeply   
than any of the other three, ne?"  
  
"No, not really, although the depth of the effect on Haruka-papa versus on   
the others could be argued."  
  
"You're questioning me."  
  
"I was never certain about this."  
  
"Hotaru-chan, this is ridiculous. You agreed with me when we first came   
up with the plan. We have to know, and never again will we have such optimal   
conditions for testing."  
  
"I know, but . . . "  
  
"You know as well as I do that the consequences of finding this out in,   
say, Crystal Tokyo could be potentially disastrous?"  
  
"I realize that but . . . don't you wonder if it will go too far?"  
  
"Do I have to remind you that you are not to intervene?"  
  
Little tears dripped down her cheeks. Hotaru cradled the antique phone   
like a baby. "I understand."  
  
"Good girl. This is their test, child. If they fail . . . well, let's   
not ponder that possibility."  
  
*******  
  
Busy signal yet again. Haruka scowled and slammed down the phone. With a   
heavy lurch she picked the blasted thing up and threw it across the room,   
watching it crack as it hit the wall with a tremendous crash.  
  
Michiru wouldn't even notice, though. She never did anymore.  
  
In her fury Haruka picked up the shattered pieces of the phone and pressed   
them against her chest. Stumbling down the stairs, she was 'treated' to the   
lovely sound of Michiru tinkering with "Benedictus."  
  
"Did you hear that?" Haruka asked acidly, staring wildly at her lover.  
  
"Hmm?" Michiru looked up through thin wire-rimmed frames at the frenetic   
tomboy. "What's that you said?"  
  
In her rage, Haruka let the pieces of the phone clatter to the ground.  
  
Michiru stared at the broken phone disinterestedly. "I guess we need a   
new phone for the bedroom," she commented dryly.  
  
"Don't start, Michiru."  
  
"What?" Michiru cocked her head. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Do I LOOK all right?"  
  
"Not at all. Actually, dear, you're positively frightening."  
  
Michiru was right--even Haruka admitted that. The mirrored wall of the   
dining room showed a terrifying sight: Haruka's eyes swollen and puffy from   
not-tears, her mouth thin and hard, her features sharp but strained. Her   
posture was slumped and her hair flat, hanging limply against her head. The   
eyes were the worst, though . . . those were not sane people's eyes, she   
knew that much.  
  
"Koibito," Michiru purred seductively, "you're getting yourself all   
knotted up." Once again she wrapped herself around Haruka's lean figure,   
gently pecking the tall woman's chest. But Haruka, though aroused, was not   
falling for this trick again.  
  
"I want to know about your mother." Haruka's voice was very nearly dead.  
  
"What?" Michiru looked up, feigning innocence. "I thought we'd closed   
that subject."  
  
"I guess we didn't."  
  
"Oh, very well." Michiru receded quickly and straightened her back. "Why   
won't you tell me about your family first?"  
  
Just the thought of doing this, especially in such a precarious mental   
state, made Haruka retch. She looked away, closing her eyes against a   
sudden case of vertigo. The door of the past had long been dead-bolted; she   
would make sure it would stay that way.  
  
When it became obvious that Haruka did not plan to answer, Michiru sneered   
mockingly. "You can't do it," she taunted Haruka, "you can't do it because   
you're a coward."  
  
$Yikes, this is quick. Slow down, Ai-ko, slow down! ^^;$  
  
Haruka made a valiant effort not to cry, but her attempts were futile.  
  
"Baby," Michiru scoffed. "Brat. You want to delve into my past when you   
can't even think about your own without crying. That's disgusting."  
  
The tears fell faster now, hotter and more shameful with each one that slid   
across her cheek.  
  
"Oh, are you going to cry, baby?" Michiru derided her. "How dare you come   
in here and demand I bare my soul for you!"  
  
"Michiru . . . I just wanted to . . . "  
  
She rolled her eyes. "What? Hold me close while I told you my sob story?   
So I could be that much more dependent on you? So you could OWN me?"  
  
"I never . . . " These things hadn't even occurred to her! How could   
Michiru accuse her of them? If anything, Haruka was the dependent one, the   
slave. Michiru had proven herself stronger. Survival of the fittest.  
  
"Maybe I should go." Haruka held her head lowly, trying not to sob aloud.   
She bit her lip so hard blood flowed freely.  
  
To her horror, she sensed Michiru's nod. "I think that would be a good   
idea."  
  
So she ran, like a baby, like a coward, to somewhere where she could sort   
her muddy thoughts into something coherent. Had she been a bit saner, she   
would've realized that something very odd happening to Michiru, but her   
bruised, battered psyche did not offer her such ration right now.  
  
She called a hotel, the finest in Japan. Surround herself in luxuries to   
forget. The room was beautiful and the service impeccable, yet she had had   
little real human contact while making the arrangements. Haruka liked it   
that way.  
  
The room was magnificent, to say the least. Decorated in soft pastels   
with contrasting dark woods, the suite held an air of affluence and beauty. The   
hotel's penthouse took up the entire floor and was the crown jewel of the   
hotel. There was a full home theater, a Jacuzzi bathtub, full Internet   
access, a complimentary bottle of champagne sitting in a solid-silver ice   
bucket with a bouquet of perfect red roses sitting next to it, and a   
magnificent King-sized bed in the main bedroom.  
  
Haruka didn't notice most of these details. Mostly her eyes zeroed in on   
the champagne. Shaky hands reached out to grab the bottle, but slipped and   
cut themselves on one of the rose's thorns. Ignoring the small dribble of   
blood running down her hand she furiously snatched up the bottle and opened   
it with the corkscrew sitting next to the bucket.  
  
Embracing her bottle, Haruka took a few vulgar swigs of the delicate   
drink, curled up in the middle of the soft, giant bed, and cried until she fell   
asleep.  
  
*******  
  
"Did Michiru-san really kick her out?" Rei asked concernedly, trying to   
mask her anxiety. "That seems a little harsh."  
  
"I get the feeling it was a mutual decision." Makoto made a face.   
"Haurka-san seemed a bit down, which means this is really getting to her. I   
tried calling their house, but Michiru didn't pick up." Makoto leaned down.   
"Apparently Michiru-san has become obsessed with her 'masterwork.'"  
  
"Masterwork?" Rei looked suspicious. "Why do I have a bad feeling about   
this?"  
  
"Probably because a bad feeling is the understatement of the year," Makoto   
groaned. "Michiru-san's composing a Requiem--and get this: it's based off   
the Moonlight Densetsu!"  
  
"Are you serious?!" Rei's eyes widened in horror. "That's positively   
disturbing."  
  
"Haruka-san agrees with you. She thinks the whole thing is sick."  
  
"That's because it IS sick."  
  
"Well . . . I guess if Usagi-chan approved the project I can see   
Michiru-san's side of it . . . what do you think, Ami-chan?"  
  
"Hmm?" Ami didn't even look up.  
  
Makoto looked suspiciously over at Ami. "Are you still working on that   
program of yours?"  
  
"Mm-hmm."  
  
"Can't even get one lousy syllable out of her," Makoto growled. "What's so   
special about this project, anyways?"  
  
Ami sighed. "It's a long story. If you want to hear, I'll tell, but no   
groaning, and no getting your hopes up. Wakarimasu ka?"  
  
Makoto looked over at Rei, who nodded politely in agreement. The taller   
senshi's head bobbed vigorously in response.  
  
Folding her hands on the table in front of the laptop, Ami began, "What do   
you know about the Silver Millennium's information system?"  
  
She was greeted with two blank stares.  
  
"Well then that may be a good place to start," Ami said, rolling her eyes.   
"Really, you two, we were briefed on the Millennial Superhighway repeatedly   
during our past lives. Do you recall nothing?"  
  
"Is this anything like the Information Superhighway?" Makoto dared to   
venture.  
  
"Actually, it is the direct predecessor of it," Ami said, nodding   
approvingly at Makoto. "The Millennial Superhighway connected all of the   
planets, with the exception of Earth. It used technology beyond current   
programmers' wildest dreams. Among other things, it acted as the main server   
for all scientific and governmental protocol. That system was one of the   
crowning achievements of the Silver Millennium."  
  
"That's nice," Rei said deprecatingly. "What does it have to do with now?"  
  
"Well . . . I ran a search of the information database using images my   
computer stored of the Wraith. Neptune-san's mirror worked as a sort of   
'camera.'"  
  
"Wait . . . you mean this computer is still running?"  
  
"How is this possible?" Makoto asked in amazement.  
  
"Hush!" Ami hissed. She pointed over to the door.  
  
Mamoru had just entered the Arcade, stormily settling in a booth   
conveniently close to the corner yet sufficiently isolated. The girls   
leaned down, trying not to be noticed.  
  
"I'm not exactly certain yet," she quietly imparted to the other two.   
"All the information on my system goes to a supercomputer on the Moon that   
served as the hub for the Silver Millennium's informational systems. The   
computer was built in an underground facility with an intense security system,   
so when the Moon Kingdom was destroyed the system remained entirely intact. My   
computer can still access data and programs stored there."  
  
The two other girls blinked. "When did this happen?" Makoto asked, still   
stunned.  
  
"Most of the Silver Millennium's government officials were only vaguely   
aware of the system's existence," Ami explained. "It was run by a group of   
highly specialized scientists and engineers, mostly from Mercury or Pluto.   
I played with the system many times in my past life," Ami said. "It's why   
I'm so familiar with the workings of systems today. But that's not really   
the point. The supercomputer came up with several matches," she announced.  
  
Four eyebrows shot up. "Why didn't you tell us about this sooner?" Rei   
asked.  
  
"All the entries are passkey-protected," she explained. "Apparently   
someone didn't want the information in the public down. The search only   
matched me up to the links because my system was built for a Princess, who   
could theoretically recover the passkeys necessary to open such a file. I   
tried to hack through the system, but it's watertight. At the time the   
firewall was erected I was too young to participate in the process. My only   
other option is trying to derive the correct passkey, which I *did*   
participate in. But, as Minako-chan would say, that's opening a bottle of   
oysters."  
  
"That's very odd," Makoto said, her mouth slightly open. "What was so   
important it required so many precautions to secure?"  
  
"A better question, Mako-chan," Ami began, "would be if the information   
was so vital, why was it placed in the main hub in the first place? Classified   
information was on an entirely different system."  
  
Rei stared at the computer. "So what are you going to do?"  
  
"Put my programming skills to work," Ami said grimly. "The system uses   
matrices to encode passkeys. The coded keys are on my system, but only   
certain matrices will allow me to unlock the specific passkeys. The search,   
which came up in criminal records, shows that there is a particular passkey   
that corresponds to major felons."  
  
"There is a list of coded passkeys on my system. I am creating a program   
that will derive the matrices used to code each password, then run all the   
matrices against all the passkeys and match them, then decode them, then   
take every possible permutation and run them through the passkey. Motoki's   
information helped me set the basic program up, but this is on a far grander   
scale than his class did."  
  
Makoto let out a low whistle. "You really have your work cut out for you,   
don't you?"  
  
Ami banged her head on the table. "You have NO idea."  
  
*******  
  
"The doctor wasn't really sure what's wrong with me," Usagi told Minako,   
"so he gave me some antibiotics just in case and told me to get plenty of   
rest."  
  
"Are you sure you shouldn't be at home?" Minako asked worriedly, noticing   
how shallow Usagi's breathing was.  
  
"No way," Usagi said dismissively. "Miyazuki-sensei thought it might just   
be stress--you know, bad breakup and all. He ran a bunch of tests on me   
just in case."  
  
"Really?" Minako was trying to hide how afraid for Usagi she really was.  
  
"Really," Usagi said confidently as they walked out of class that day.   
"Besides, if it is stress, then I'm not going to let this get the best of   
me, Mamo-chan be damned."  
  
"Usagi-chan," Minako said warily, "does this have anything to do with what   
I told you last week? I mean, when I told you to not let Mamoru-san hurt   
you, I never meant for you to put your health in danger just to prove a   
point."  
  
"Of course not," Usagi said breezily, "but I can't just lay myself down   
and die now, can I? I'm not going to be a weepy coward about this. I'm   
stronger than that, Mina-chan!"  
  
The timing of this statement was unnaturally impeccable. Just as she made   
her bold declaration, a wave of vertigo quickly pulled her to the ground,   
dazed and disoriented.  
  
"Usagi-chan?!" Minako's voice jumped two octaves. She knelt by Usagi,   
frantically shaking the odango-haired girl. "Usagi-chan!!"  
  
Usagi, for her part, was simply trying to take in a full breath of air.   
With the screaming pace her heart was going at, it was near impossible for   
her to do as such. Minako's shaking awakened her from her trance, allowing   
her to start breathing more deeply and calm herself down.  
  
"Minako?" Usagi asked weakly.  
  
Near petrified with relief, Minako wrapped her arms around the smaller   
girl and began to bawl. Usagi suddenly found she was comforting both Minako and   
herself.  
  
"Wh-what's happening to you, Usagi-chan?" Minako sobbed.  
  
"I don't know," Usagi whispered fearfully. "I really don't know."  
  
*******  
  
"Did she dump you?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Did you dump her?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Did you hurt her?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Did she hurt you?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Is she pregnant?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Are you gay?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Is she gay?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"*You* aren't by any chance pregnant, right?"  
  
"I resent that remark, Motoki-kun."  
  
"Well, Mamoru-kun, we have been sitting here for forty-five minutes and   
I've had to recycle questions three times now! Aren't you going to tell me   
what happened?"  
  
"If I was planning to, wouldn't I have done so forty-five minutes ago?"  
  
"ARGHH! You are so DIFFICULT!"  
  
"I'll take that as a compliment." Head low and bangs over his eyes,   
Mamoru moodily sipped the black coffee.  
  
Motoki hopped into the bench. "I've been your best friend for ten years,   
Mamoru-kun--"  
  
"Eleven," Mamoru corrected him.  
  
"Okay then, seven," Motoki conceded, running a furious hand through his   
messy blond locks. There were times he really wished he could use a nice   
broadsword on the arcade games that were beeping so idiotically in the   
background, he mentally amended. Those games were insanely annoying at times   
like these. "Maybe if you talked to someone, you'd feel better."  
  
"I don't think anything short of a bottle of vodka and a concussion could   
make me feel better right now," Mamoru replied icily. "You've already dragged   
me down here and harassed me incessantly about this for the last hour. I don't   
want to talk about it, and that's final."  
  
"Mamoru-KUN!" Motoki banged his head on the table, stunned at his best   
friend's cool demeanor.  
  
Then again...Motoki surveyed the scene more carefully. Mamoru's head was   
low, too low to see his eyes, but sufficient to see the grimace his mouth   
was twisted into and the pallor of his cheeks. His hands quavered as they   
clasped the coffee cup, and his voice was overwrought, overflowing with   
emotion yet dull and spiritless.  
  
Motoki was about to begin round 4 of questioning when the stupid bell his   
little sister had attached to the door rang. In walked Aino Minako, an arm   
firmly supporting a shaky Usagi.  
  
"Hey there, Motoki-san," Minako said gently. "Usagi-chan's a little dead   
on her feet. I think she needs a triple-chocolate milkshake with extra   
whipped cream."  
  
"I'm FINE, Mina-chan! You worry too much."  
  
"I'm paying."  
  
"Well, I guess a little snack could be good for me. Fire away!"  
  
Smiling, Motoki turned to make up the milkshake. From the corner of his   
eye, he watched Mamoru perk up upon sensing her presence, then slowly turn   
to gaze painfully at the little blonde.  
  
Motoki cursed himself and turned back to the milkshake, angrily wishing   
one of them would confront the other. Couldn't they see that they were meant   
for each other? Unable to resist, he scowled in Mamoru's direction, who in   
turn guiltily turned away.  
  
A dark glint flashed in his beloved's eyes. With an iniquitous smile she   
strutted to Mamoru's booth. Usagi forced down a wave of vertigo and flashed   
her pearly whites.  
  
"Something the matter, Mamo-chan?" she asked, almost mockingly.  
  
What was she doing? Minako and Motoki watched carefully, trying to   
interpret her actions from her and Mamoru's body language. Mamoru, Motoki   
concluded, was as clueless as they.  
  
"Nothing at all," he replied smoothly, although there was a quiet tremble   
to his voice that Usagi caught easily. There was something oddly arousing   
about all this, he noted darkly.  
  
"What? No furious efforts to rip my clothes off?" she murmured, smiling   
all the while.  
  
He gulped. "Why are you doing this? I asked you. I BEGGED you. What do   
you want from me?" he pleaded hoarsely, staring down at his coffee.  
  
"You should have called."  
  
"I thought all I was good for to you was a romp under the bed sheets after   
our little session."  
  
"That's not true, Mamo-chan," she protested with a quivering lip.  
  
"Isn't it?" he asked dully. "Isn't it?"  
  
"No . . . "  
  
"Because that's all you were to me."  
  
Crack! Her hand went swiftly across his face. Usagi snarled at him.   
"You . . . " She was too furious to think up a word heinous enough to describe   
her opinion of him. "Don't act all high and mighty with me, Chiba!"  
  
"You should take your own advice sometime."  
  
With a motion containing more grace than Usagi had ever mustered   
previously, she snatched her bag and walked out, her head held high.  
  
Mamoru stared at the empty doorway. Motoki's noticing his friend's   
gape-mouthed expression, simply asked, "Well?"  
  
"Well what?" he mumbled in confusion.  
  
"Aren't you going to run after her?"  
  
He was off like a shot.  
  
She hadn't gotten very far, he realized. As he slowed, still jogging   
lightly, he placed a firm hand on her shoulder, pulling her back and almost   
causing them both to lose their balance. Usagi let out a cry of surprise   
and twirled around, immediately caught up in Mamoru's swirling blue gaze.  
  
"I-I'm sorry," she offered weakly. "I don't know what got into me."  
  
Silence.   
  
"I didn't mean to hurt you, you know, I guess--"  
  
"Don't," he croaked. "Just . . . say that . . . tell me I wasn't wrong   
that day, Usa-ko. Just that."  
  
His hands are so warm, she thought to herself before remembering the   
morning those same hands had taken a life, no matter how depraved that life   
might have been.  
  
Mamoru was unaware to Usagi's train of thought. The night they had   
consecrated their love had left him longing for more. His mind--and   
libido--were filled with Usagi as they had never had before. But just as   
this firestorm of lust and love had consumed him, he never forgot that he   
was a killer. He needed her forgiveness like he needed air, but it appeared   
he wasn't going to get that. Nevertheless, his love for her still burned   
fiercely. He would not escape easily.  
  
And now, to feel her fluttery, birdlike heartbeat next to his, to feel her   
yielding form in his arms! Soft tears dripped over his cheeks as he tried   
to block this out, always reminding himself of the atrocities he had   
committed in this girl's name. The last thing she needed was someone who   
was this dependent upon her love, someone who would willingly take lives for   
her. It was contrary to everything she was and stood for, and she should   
not be forced to tolerate it as such.  
  
But still he could not let go, didn't dare to lest he find this to be   
another painful dream. Usagi stared up at him shyly, whispering, "Mamo-chan?"  
  
In an instant he had clamped his lips on hers, dragging her tiny figure   
into a nearby alley, intending to never let her go again. Usagi happily   
obliged him, kissing him back with equal viciousness. Mamoru nibbled her   
earlobe and whispered words of love and lust in her ears, even slipped a   
daring hand up the thin shirt of her school fuku. She, in turn, made her   
way down his chest; carefully she unbuttoned the crisp black shirt he wore--  
  
"Usagi-chan!"  
  
The couple stopped abruptly, letting go of each other. "I'd better go,"   
Usagi mumbled weakly. "Mina-chan must be looking for me--"  
  
He grabbed her wrist, silently boring his eyes into her. But Usagi shook   
it off.  
  
"Aishiteru," she whispered, watching his eyes widen in shock. "But who   
knows if that really means anything?"  
  
She didn't stay to see Mamoru's reaction. Instead, she turned to Mina,   
because it was easy, and making him stay would have been too hard.  
  
"Usagi-chan," Minako cocked her blonde head, "where did you go?"  
  
What did I just do? Usagi asked herself fearfully. Her heart raced to   
inconceivable proportions. Did I . . . please say that I'm not . . . oh,   
Gods . . .  
  
"Usagi-chan?"  
  
Minako had no time to react as Usagi slinked to the ground.  
  
*******  
  
Oh! How sweetly the notes floated from her, how soft and lovely they were   
. . . truly remarkable. There was nothing on this Earth like it. Without   
Haruka around to distract her, nothing could stop her.  
  
The locket played its melody as the last chords of "Benedictus" hung in   
the air, the two sounds in perfect synchronization.  
  
Michiru's dark eyes gleamed with unholy pleasure.  
  
And just as the last note faded Usagi fell.  
  
******* 


	6. Agnus Dei

Requiem for a Soldier: Agnus Dei (Lamb of God) (5/7)  
Author: Ai  
E-mail: tennyo@home.com  
  
  
There are some poor souls who will never find Love.  
  
These unfortunate creatures, wretched as they made themselves out to be,   
missed something wonderful and terrible: consummation, no doubt, but the   
lesser things too, a touch, a breath on the neck, a pleasant laugh.  
  
But were they so unblessed? Was it worth it to love? For all the orators   
that spoke of it, poets that wrote of it, dreamers that dreamed of it, and the   
lovers that loved it, these people who never liked to admit the truth: that Love   
was just as ugly and destructive as hate (more-so in many ways, since people were more   
inclined to trust it). Love could steal. Love could hurt. Love could kill.  
  
And the Lords of Hell knew this and used it to their advantage. They used   
passion and devotion in ways incomprehensible to ordinary conception, if   
only because people deliberately withdrew from such thoughts, leaving those   
caught among this deadly web to suffer alone. Those who succumbed were lost   
for forever.  
  
Now as time moment of truth approached, the pain returned full force, and   
the hate, the anger and the regret once thought to be banished hung heavily   
upon one poor soul who had never meant for it to go this far. Pure   
memories, tainted with Love, verily haunted the psyche. Love had destroyed   
this wretch, this pure Woman.  
  
Once a Woman cried for It.  
  
Once a Woman sold Her Soul for It.  
  
Once a Woman became a Wraith for It.  
  
And She swore She would not be the last.  
  
********  
  
Minako turned sheet-white as Usagi fell to the ground for the second time   
that day. Trembling with fear, she bent down, acting entirely on instinct   
as she checked for a pulse.  
  
There was none. With a terrified cry she began administering CPR,   
screaming between breaths for someone to call emergency.  
  
Thankfully, some blessed soul did hear her cries for help and pulled out   
his cell, taking over the duty of attempting to resuscitate the small girl.  
  
"About a block from the Crown Arcade, between 4th and M street . . . she's been   
on antibiotics . . . someone's doing CPR . . . oh, God, please hurry, she's   
my best friend!" Minako started to weep, shutting off the phone.  
  
"Usagi-chan!" Minako screamed at the lifeless form. "If you don't wake up   
right now I'll never forgive you! And neither will Ami-chan or Rei-chan or   
Mako-chan, and you'll never see your family or become Mamoru-san's bride or   
have a daughter! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!"  
  
With a fierce gasp, Usagi's eyes widened, her blue face slowly retreating.   
Slipping back into unconsciousness, Minako was infinitely relieved to   
realize that at very least the girl was breathing.  
  
And still breathing even as the emergency unit drove up, shallow as it was.   
As the ambulance zoomed off, Usagi in tow, a disconsolate Minako stumbled   
back to the Crown Arcade, where she gave the grim news to her fellow senshi.  
  
********  
  
In times of despair, when there is nothing left to hold onto, there is   
something in the human condition that makes even the most alien factions   
feel as if they were one.  
  
That day Haruka had never felt so loved as she dismally walked into the   
Juuban District Hospital. Hugs and tears came at her from every angle. Ami   
clutched her as she cried; Makoto whispered into her shoulder all the things   
they feared. Even a transformed Minako, cool leader rather than dim-witted   
blonde, offered a stiff hug and watery smile.  
  
The girls sat away from the other friends and family that had gathered   
around. Offhand she recognized Kenji giving her the evil eye, not realizing   
who Haruka was, Usagi's mother and brother, and the little redhead with her   
nerdy boyfriend--Naru and Umino, right?--imparting odd looks. From there,   
only Rei kept distant, sitting pertly in an orange plastic chair, staring   
into space. Next to her was an empty seat; this is the seat in which Haruka   
sat.  
  
"Are you all right?" Haruka whispered into Rei's ear. Rei nodded but said   
nothing.  
  
"Leave her be," Minako said quietly. "We all have to deal with this in our   
own way."  
  
Rei gave Minako an oddly grateful look as Haruka smiled at the Venusian   
Senshi's sudden wisdom.  
  
"So . . . I rushed here as soon as I heard," Haruka said quietly. "How   
long have you been here?"  
  
"Ten hours," was Makoto's lifeless reply.  
  
"I'm not leaving until she walks out of here herself," Rei said   
obstinately.  
  
Tears welled in Haruka's eyes, though her hated her own emotional state.   
She vaguely remembered being fourteen years old and terrified of the destiny   
that awaited her should she chose to follow Michiru down the path of being a   
Sailor senshi. The two things she could never outrun were her past and her   
future. And these girls, with the full force of their love, had accepted it   
so easily, whereas she still had problems coming to terms with the fact her   
dreams had long since turned to dust.  
  
"Mamotte," Haruka whispered. "To protect her, is that why?"  
  
All four nodded.  
  
Making the mental breach, she suddenly remembered that Mamoru probably knew   
nothing of this. "Has anyone told Mamoru-san?"  
  
"He isn't worth the 50-yen piece it would require to make the phone call,"   
Minako said icily, truly assuming the role of leader for the first time.   
Haruka saw the clearly defined hatred and rage in the perky blonde's eyes   
and feared for her. Anger aged a person without and within, Haruka had   
learned. The senshi would have never believed her if she had told them that   
she was only a year older than they themselves were.  
  
"Minako . . . " Haruka opened her mouth and shut it, sighing and rubbing   
her temples.  
  
"Is Michiru-san nearby?" Rei suddenly interrupted. "I'd like to talk to   
her."  
  
Upon hearing the name, Haruka had to choke back an urge to spit on the   
ground. "She's too busy with her fucking immortality," she said   
contemptibly. "Worthless whore."  
  
All four Inner senshi felt little alarm bells go off in their minds.   
Haruka's vicious words meant that things had taken a turn for the worse.  
  
Holding her head, Haruka rasped, "I want to see her."  
  
"You can't," Minako said coolly. "The doctors aren't letting anyone in   
right now."  
  
"Watch me," Haruka snapped. No one, not even the nurses, dared stop her,   
though that may have had something to do with the fact that the head nurse   
was obsessed with car racing and easily recognized Haruka.  
  
Slipping through the corridors unnoticed, Haruka walked to the room as if   
by instinct.  
  
The walls were stark white and made her want to cry. It was times like   
these that Haruka remembered what horrible places hospitals were. At its   
nexus lay the tiny Princess she had been charged with protecting so long   
ago, attached to virtually every machine in existence.  
  
"Neko-chan?"  
  
Drowsy eyelids slowly rose. "Haruka-san?" she whispered weakly, unable to   
take her normally expressive voice over a pathetic volume.  
  
"Neko-chan," Haruka smiled warmly, kneeling next to the bed. Tenderly   
whisking sweaty bangs from Usagi's eyes, biting her lip to keep from crying.   
"Thought you might like to take a drive, neko-chan."  
  
"Sounds good," Usagi murmured.  
  
"It does, doesn't it?" Haruka asked, her gaze vacant. "You and me and   
Michiru and maybe Setsuna in my convertible, without a care in the world . .   
. no destiny to think about, no future . . . just today. Doesn't that sound   
nice?"  
  
"Haruka," Usagi implored weakly, "I'm going to get better. The doctors . .   
. there's medicines, and . . . "  
  
"What? Usagi-chan, what medicine?"  
  
"Medicine for my heart . . . "  
  
"Your heart?" Haruka's voice skipped an octave. "What's wrong with your   
heart?"  
  
"Some rare infection," Usagi said. "They said it's lucky it was caught   
early."  
  
"You're telling me that . . . "  
  
Tears dripped down Usagi's cheeks. "The infection at this stage has a 40%   
mortality rate," she whispered. "But don't tell anyone. That's why they're   
thinking of replacing my heart. To be safe. Maybe I'd feel better with a   
new heart. Stronger and not all smashed up."  
  
A weak sob escaped her lips. "Tell me he's here, Haruka. Please tell me   
he's here. Lie if you have to, but tell me. . . ."  
  
Haruka couldn't even look at her in the eye.  
  
"Oh God," she whispered in horror. "I'm going die without him, aren't I?   
I need him, Haruka. He's my strength. Mamo-chan is all I have. I can't .   
. . I *won't*. . . "  
  
All Haruka could do is hold her hand and weep with her.  
  
********  
  
"We found a small laceration on one of her fingers that appears to be   
inflamed, which my best guess is where the bacteria entered," the doctor, a   
pompous, graying mid-40s man with enough degrees to drown a small cow told   
the crowd. "It seems similar to acute endocarditis, but that develops more   
quickly and is almost always fatal within a few days. On the other hand,   
your daughter has an amazingly strong immune system. I'm flabbergasted at   
how long she has held out."  
  
"Endocarditis?" Ikuko whispered, as if afraid of the word.  
  
"An infection of the heart valves and linings," the doctor said   
matter-of-factly. "We have her on a heavy dose of antibiotics, but there   
are lesions all over the valves and signs of toxemia. Preliminary X-rays   
also show dead tissue in the heart itself. For now, we are going to try the   
antibiotics, in hopes of averting the need for a full heart transplant."  
  
TRANSPLANT?!" Ikuko screeched. Kenji quickly hushed his wife while trying   
to keep himself calm.  
  
"If we must," the overbearing doctor said firmly. Suddenly, his expression   
softened. He seemed almost . . . compassionate. "We will do our best by your   
daughter, Tsukino-tachi," he said very seriously. "She's lucky to have such   
loyal friends and family."  
  
"Pity her lover isn't so magnanimous," a dour Haruka muttered from her   
corner of the hallway after listening to the doctor's diagnosis.  
  
*******  
  
Cars were cold comfort in times when one woman was becoming increasingly   
convinced that love was dead and there wasn't really any point in bothering.   
Running as fast as she could through the frosty streets of Juuban, Haruka   
finally gave out in front of an apartment and lay on the hard pavement for a   
few minutes, trying to catch her breath.  
  
Realizing where she was, the blond pulled herself off the ground, despite   
the temptation to simply stay there until her heart gave out and she didn't   
have to feel anything. She wouldn't allow herself the pleasure, however.   
Forcing herself through the doors, she was met by a fat little bellman with   
a clearly inflated opinion of his importance.  
  
"Excuse me, miss," he said haughtily. "Visitors must be called in by   
tenants or have a pass."  
  
"Would that pass do any good if I shoved it up your ass?" Haruka said,   
standing four inches over the tiny man.  
  
Sputtering, he protested, "I was just telling you for *information*."  
  
"So was I," Haruka sneered, lifting the little tub of blubber with one   
hand and glaring at him straight on. "May I go up now or am I going to have to   
actually shove something up your ass? You look like the kind of little   
prick who'd enjoy it, fatty."  
  
Gulping, he mumbled, "You may go through."  
  
"That's better," Haruka mocked the man. Pushing him aside, she pressed the   
button to summon an elevator.  
  
On the ride, Haruka tried to compose a delicate way to give Mamoru such   
bleak news. Foolish as it was, Haruka had not given up hope that Mamoru   
would come through for Usagi. And if Mamoru could get his act together,   
then maybe there was hope for Michiru and her.  
  
Haruka knew which apartment it was from the fact there was no nameplate on   
the door. Knocking firmly, she waited expectantly for the door.  
  
When he opened it, eyes dead and whole figure emanating anguish, the first   
words out of her mouth were, "You fuckwit."  
  
So much for delicacy.  
  
********  
  
"The doctors think she has a pretty good chance of making it, even if they   
do have to resort to a transplant," Haruka said, still standing in the   
doorway.  
  
Mamoru was sitting on his couch, staring mindlessly into space. His knees   
were tucked to his chest and, unless it was Haruka's imagination, he   
appeared to be shuddering.  
  
"She was scared today," Haruka continued, delighting in hurting this man,   
this--this murderer. "She tried so hard to be brave but all she wanted was   
for you to be with her and make the pain go away. How pathetically naïve of   
her, I thought. Look at you. I'm surprised you can even look yourself in   
the mirror."  
  
"I can't," came the hoarse reply.  
  
"That's nice," Haruka said caustically. "Much as I'd love to see her be   
able to get along without you, she needs you, so I'm hoping that you get   
your act together soon and go see her." Haruka made a move to leave, but   
then turned around. "Even if you are a monster."  
  
She deliberately disregarded out Mamoru's tortured cry.  
  
********  
  
As she stepped out of the apartment, Haruka's sharp eyes focused on the   
tiny black figure on the pavement. Clear blue eyes, so much like Usagi's,   
held a very human sorrow. In the moonlight, the little moon sigil on her   
forehead glinted, revealing the feline's identity.  
  
"Luna," Haruka said passively, staring down at the cat.  
  
Luna sighed and stood up. "I knew something was wrong," she stated flatly.   
"But she didn't want anyone to find out. And now this . . . " The little   
cat looked away.  
  
"What did you know?" Haruka queried, bending to meet Luna's sad eyes.  
  
"I knew she was sick," Luna admitted, "very sick. And I knew she was using   
the ginzuishou to hide it. . . . "  
  
"Using the ginzuishou? In her condition?"  
  
"Not consciously," Luna assured Haruka. "The crystal reacts to the user's   
heart, right? So when Usagi-chan's began to fail, the power of the crystal   
started to pick up slack. That's why she lasted so long in the first place.   
As an advisor to the Royal Family of the Moon, I have the ability to sense   
when the crystal is being used."  
  
"But you never told anyone?"  
  
"It wasn't my secret to tell. We guardians are sworn to secrecy about the   
private matters of our wards. It wasn't until later that I realized that   
Usagi-chan didn't intentionally use the crystal to sustain her heart when it   
started to fail."  
  
Haruka pondered the new information carefully, her gaze growing distant  
  
"But after the incident with Mamoru-san," Luna continued quietly, "her   
heart couldn't take any more. The ginzuishou . . . it crashed like a computer.   
And so did Usagi."  
  
Tears fell from both females' eyes. "If only I had said something . . . "   
Luna affirmed miserably, "maybe then she'd be all right."  
  
The tall blonde senshi scooped Luna up in her arms. "You know Luna-chan,"   
Haruka said, "I'm beginning to wonder if all of us have some sort of 'if   
only' lurking in the back of our minds."  
  
********  
  
"Is your pillow fluffy enough?"  
  
"Considering how many times you've plumped it, Mina-chan, it should be   
ready to float out of here."  
  
"Hush up, Mako-chan," Minako reprimanded Makoto. Smiling cheerily, she   
opened the blinds, letting in the thin, watery-gray light from outside. "Now   
isn't that nicer?"  
  
"I can't tell the difference," Rei said honestly.  
  
Minako looked ready to take this as an insult. Then, realizing the shabby   
effect the outside light really had on the room, she closed the blinds again.   
"Actually, I think it's nicer in here without it."  
  
"It's fine," Usagi said, smiling weakly. "You guys really don't need to   
stay."  
  
"Who says we're here because of you?" Minako cracked. "Ami's in the back   
working on homework--" on cue, Ami waved from her laptop, "--and as for me,   
it's either this or go home and tell my mother I failed another History   
test."  
  
Usagi threw the tiny 'Princess' pillow Makoto had given her at Minako, but   
it landed embarrassingly short of the lithe blonde. Rei grinned. "You   
always did throw like a girl, Usagi-chan."  
  
"That's because I AM a girl, Rei-chan!"  
  
"That's no excuse," she replied haughtily, sticking her nose up. "I don't   
throw like that."  
  
"Then what are YOU saying, Rei-KUN?"  
  
The other three paused before bursting into laughter. "Oh, Kami, Rei-  
kun," Makoto cracked, "you really walked into that one!"  
  
"So? I decided to let her win for once," Rei announced snootily. "After   
all, she IS ill."  
  
"And so are you if you believe that," Minako rolled her eyes, unable to   
suppress a grin. Even Ami could barely contain her giggling.  
  
At that moment the doctor walked in, doing his daily rounds. "That time   
already?" Usagi asked the doctor in curiosity.  
  
The on-staff doctor nodded. "You seem to be doing well," she commented   
with a smile. "I can hear you from down the hall."  
  
All five senshi exchanged guilty looks.  
  
"It's all right," the doctor assured them, "I was your age once too. Just   
try to keep down from here on in, all right?"  
  
They nodded before marching out.  
  
The doctor carefully looked around at the extensive selection of flowers,   
cards, balloons, and occasional stuffed animal scattered in the room.   
"Someone is popular," she noted.  
  
Usagi nodded. "I guess I'm loved."  
  
"Nice to know. Are these roses from your boyfriend?"  
  
At the thought of her boyfriend, Usagi's expression darkened. "No," she   
said slowly, "I haven't received anything from him."  
  
"What a jerk," the woman groaned. "Men are incredible."  
  
"Oh, I agree," Usagi lied. "Ah . . . what time is it?"  
  
"A little after 4. Why?"  
  
"Just curious."  
  
The doctor had made it through medical school; she had enough brains to   
not pry. Finishing her tests in a crisp, businesslike manner that Usagi   
replicated, she left quickly. The situation in the room was too sticky for   
the exhausted doctor to spend any real time pondering lest she come across   
something she would not like.  
  
Once the doctor was gone, the senshi tromped back in, ready to be cheery.   
"So . . . anyone want to play 'Guess Who?'" Minako offered when she saw   
Usagi's stormy face.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"Oh, wow, is it really *that* late?" Makoto asked innocently,   
staring at her watch.  
  
"You're supposed to *guess* the person, Usagi-chan--"  
  
"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" Usagi yelled in fury. Her voice didn't have   
the strength it usually did, but she scared the senshi sufficiently. Their eyes   
were pealed, paying full attention.  
  
Makoto looked down. "We're sorry, Usagi-chan, we really are. We were   
hoping you'd forget."  
  
On Wednesdays Mamoru got out of class at 2:30. Usagi waited expectantly   
each day for Mamoru to come see her, kiss her, sweep her away from this   
nightmare, but he never came. The senshi were tired of watching her hope   
flattened each day.  
  
"That's sweet," Usagi snarled. "But you *promised* you'd tell me."  
  
"Usagi-chan . . . "  
  
"Never mind," she shook her head. "I don't think I want to see him now   
anyways. Just go."  
  
The four Inners were horrified. "Are you really . . . ?"  
  
"Didn't you hear me?"  
  
"Usagi-chan--" Minako took a hold of her hand then dropped it as a spark   
ran through her system. She rubbed her aching temples as her body   
recovered.  
  
"Go."  
  
"All right." Ami, Makoto, and Minako all walked out together.  
  
Rei stayed behind, coolly defiant.  
  
"Didn't you hear me? I don't want to see you," Usagi snapped.  
  
"I don't know why you're acting this way, Usagi-chan," the raven-haired   
priestess responded calmly.  
  
She didn't know either, but that certainly wasn't going to stop. Glaring   
at Rei, she watched as Rei sighed, picked up the flimsy plastic hospital   
chair she had brought in the room with her, and walked out.  
  
The next sound she heard was the plunk of the chair onto the ascetic tile   
floor right outside her room.  
  
*******  
  
He had not known what to expect when he walked down that aisle.   
Furuhata Motoki was used to having control, a steady foothold on which   
everything rested. His grades were good, his relationships secure, his life was   
going in a direction of which he was master. Only one portion of his life   
remained unable to maintain equilibrium with his carefully constructed   
destiny.  
  
Yet this was the one aspect that had obsessed him from the first time he   
had met Chiba Mamoru, to understand and unlock the secrets hidden deep   
within the oddly beautiful creature--Motoki could not quite call him a   
man--to know that these secrets were part of something greater and lovelier   
than his ordinary mind had a firm grasp on. This was what he had felt, but   
it had taken him years to put it into words. Even Usagi had been unable to   
grasp it, to see the dim, unhinged shade that danced at the corner of his   
slate eyes, to see, for a moment at a time, what was inside him.  
  
To understand, this was Motoki's greatest fear and greatest regret. So,   
foolishly, he tried again.  
  
The door was open. Motoki stepped in to see Mamoru sprawled on the couch,   
toying with a shiny object. As he approached he realized it was a knife.  
  
"Are you planning to use that?"  
  
Motoki tried not to choke.  
  
"Maybe." The voice was eerily affable, almost songlike in quality.   
Mamoru always did have a terrific voice.  
  
"On what?"  
  
"You ask too many questions." Motoki was beginning to get really scared.  
  
"On yourself?" He could see it in his mind; the image was so disturbing   
he shut his eyes, as if they could protect him from his overactive imagination.  
  
"No," he replied. "Of course not. That would be silly. You're right   
here, aren't you? You'd just call the police."  
  
"Oh." Motoki made up his mind to stay rooted to his spot.  
  
"Then again," Mamoru continued pleasantly, still toying with the knife   
across his arm, "If you weren't here I would be very much able to off   
myself, ne?"  
  
"Is that so."  
  
"I could kill you. That would work."  
  
The blood drained from Motoki's face. "You're not serious," he whispered,   
too paralyzed by terror to move.  
  
"Am I?" Now Mamoru turned around and Motoki saw what he had always known   
was there but never voiced; the dubiously bright light of lunacy coyly   
dancing in Mamoru's eyes, the cruel, childlike smile, the tortured   
flawlessness of the animal in front of him. "It wouldn't be the first time,   
you know."  
  
"Wouldn't it?"  
  
"Of course not," he bragged in a self-mocking manner. "I am a murderer.   
Once is an accident, you see, but twice is a murderer. The magic word is   
*twice.* So what is to prevent me from doing it again?"  
  
"I-I don't know," Motoki choked. "What? Our friendship?"  
  
"Are we friends? I didn't think I had any. In fact, I don't think I feel   
anything at all."  
  
Wasn't that the legal definition of insane, Motoki asked himself? They   
called those sociopaths, right?  
  
Sociopath or no, however, Motoki screwed up his courage and did the   
idiotic.  
  
"I don't believe you."  
  
The words rang with an uncanny determination to them. Motoki vowed to not   
let Mamoru realize he was trembling inside.  
  
He had half-expected Mamoru to shove that knife through his heart there   
and then, but, to his surprise, Mamoru fell back, gently nursing the area where   
he had played with the knife. Blood, blood slipped down his arm, blood like   
life and sanity and . . . love.  
  
"You would be right, then."  
  
Motoki knelt at the couch, quietly surveying Mamoru's still form and wild   
eyes. "I want to help," he stated firmly. "Tell me how."  
  
Mamoru laughed, a hollow, lifeless laugh. "You know," he murmured, almost   
excitedly, "the first time I laid eyes on her I knew it was for forever.   
Not for her, maybe, but for me, yeah. I was never going to get away." He   
sighed lowly. "After a while I couldn't even tell where I ended and she   
began . . . if there was ever anything there before she came." Two tears   
slipped from his eyes.  
  
Motoki blinked. "Are you talking about Usagi-chan?"  
  
It was strange to hear the emotion in Mamoru's voice, the quiet reverence   
with which he spoke of her, the lonely longing and need. Did Usagi know   
what a willing vessel she had in him? No wonder he never wanted anyone to   
know what was inside him. There was nothing but her, and that was a   
weakness to be exploited.  
  
"She'll be my next victim, too, Motoki-kun; I won't stab her with a knife   
or snap her neck but she will die at my hand . . . my sweet Usa . . . "  
  
Mamoru's head dropped off as he fell into his dreamworld. The soft   
whimpers of pain indicated it was not a pleasant place, but who was Motoki   
to intervene? With a heavy heart he stood and turned to leave, but not   
before he saw the wound on Mamoru's arm.  
  
Through the blood, he could see Usagi's name carved delicately into the   
flesh.  
  
********  
  
Minako was trying to sleep, really she was. Her mother insisted that she   
attend school the next day, and, angry as she was about it, [she] had no choice   
but to acquiesce.  
  
She was a perpetual optimist and liked to look on the bright side, though.   
Perhaps school would be a nice distraction, that the banality of Chemistry   
and chatting with friends could sufficiently divert her attention from   
things like reality.  
  
But much as she longed for escape, Minako had the uneasy feeling that that   
universally shared sentiment had been the problem all along. Behind the   
barriers Usagi and Mamoru had placed around their hearts, Minako could feel   
the black edge of fear running as an undercurrent to these. Haruka was   
afraid too, afraid of the outright rejection by her lover that was looming.   
And they were all afraid to admit Usagi was ill, that she may very well die   
and leave her senshi behind to pick up the pieces, to forge their own   
existences. That fear haunted them all.  
  
It was as if the Wraith really *had* seeped into their bones.  
  
Tears sprang to her eyes. "I want to sleep," she whispered into the inky   
air of her room. "Please, God. I'm so tired. I can't think."  
  
There was no answer.  
  
So she would wait here longer, thinking more, about her fears, about the   
realities, and . . . well, this thing she had not wanted to think about, but   
what was the point? It would haunt her no matter what. That day, when she   
had been with Usagi, she had held onto the little Princess's hand for a   
moment and sensed a jolt. A sound had accompanied it; for some odd reason,   
she was certain the dull crunch had been the snap of a neck.  
  
Strangely enough, though, it was at this point, when Minako was her most   
troubled, that she got her precious sleep. Rest, however, did not come so   
easily.  
  
********  
  
The eyes. That was what she remembered later. Cold. Frozen. Empty.  
  
Or not empty, but full, full of a single thing--love, a twisted, demonic   
love. So full they were empty all over again. The cold steel of the   
eyes . . . it was too much for her to handle.  
  
Movements were made in slow motion, as if they were wading through   
molasses. Strangely enough, her mind was similarly affected. Each frantic   
thought that passed through her mind had time to make a distinct, deliberate   
impression upon her, each had infinite time to be analyzed and interpreted.  
  
Gold. The power of the Earth, summoned to his hands. So he was to . . .   
he would . . .  
  
For a moment, her heart was filled with a strange warmth and   
possessiveness, veritably stunned that he was about to do this for her, not   
just to save her, but also to avenge her. Because she *wanted* that   
horrible monster to die, and she was rapt, delighted by her lover's actions.  
  
His eyes met hers. Do it, she urged wordlessly. Kill him. He interfered.   
With us, with this. He has no place here.  
  
But in a moment the sensation had been quashed, hidden from the light of   
day. Now she was filled with fear and horror, now she was compassionate and   
sympathetic.  
  
"NO!" she now pleaded, recanting the previous silent wish.  
  
And then it happened.  
  
The crack rang through her ears again and again and again . . . and again   
she felt it, the base ecstasy and wonderment. But it fled so quickly that she   
would without doubt forget.  
  
Mamoru looked at her expectantly, waiting for something . . . praise,   
maybe? She sensed how acutely he craved her love and approval, just as strongly   
as she craved his. If even a normally gentle boy like Mamoru could fall so far   
for love. . . .  
  
She blacked it out; turned away from him. Felt his eyes turn to the gift   
he had laid at her feet, afraid and oddly proud of his own work.  
  
Her mind took over, screaming, "Look what's he's DONE! The MONSTER!"  
  
"You . . . you . . ." she stuttered pointlessly, uncertain of what you   
said when someone killed for you. Some corner of her heart was yelling at her   
to thank him, to take him in her arms and kiss him senseless, to show him her   
gratitude. . . .  
  
Again she reeled. This was ridiculous. Her lover was a murderer, and now   
she glared at him, trying to pretend she was better than him, that she   
hadn't wanted this as badly as he had, not because this boy had been about   
to rape her, but because he had tried to take something that was only for   
Mamoru.  
  
"Anything for you," he professed miserably, trying to make her understand.   
Didn't you want this from me? she saw the question in his eyes. I only did   
it because I thought you wanted it. Didn't you want this from me?  
  
But, just like she was, he too was ashamed. Ashamed of his weakness and   
maybe strength, ashamed to admit that he had just killed in the name of the   
one thing pure and sweet in his life.  
  
"Do you understand why you must leave me now?" This was what he had been   
trying to prevent from the beginning, their love spiraling out of control,   
to the extent that innocents--if they could be called that--got caught in a   
love that wasn't theirs. In her ignorance, she had pursued him anyway,   
dared to want more, and inevitably become the catalyst for this entire mess.   
At every step, he had offered her a way out, even today, when she could   
never get away, he still wanted to give her a chance to escape.  
  
And, coward that she was, she ran, away from her love and, for all its   
consequences, the thing that made her *alive.* She knew she was killing   
him, and she knew she was killing herself, but still she ran, hoping to find   
refuge in another. Oh Gods, she was afraid, afraid of him, afraid of   
herself, afraid of what was between them. . . .  
  
She left him there; let him believe he had done the wrong thing when she   
had wanted it so badly just like he had. And she asked herself, had the   
situation been reversed, had he been in her position and she in his, would   
she have let it go that far?  
  
The weight of her answer brought her to her knees.  
  
********  
  
Aino Minako's lithe form was pale and wobbly; in the moonlight her   
normally soft golden aura was harsh and bright. She stared up at the moon,   
trying to understand her dream, what she, no, Usagi, had seen. The dream from   
the night before, seen through Usagi's eyes but her viewpoint (despite her   
helplessness to react in a way besides what Usagi had), still left Minako   
with a unsettled feeling in her stomach.  
  
Now she was sitting in History class, attempting to pay attention to   
. . . what was it she was supposed to be paying attention to again?  
  
Was it possible that Mamoru had killed to protect Usagi? Minako had a   
difficult time believing that Mamoru could really do such a thing, past or   
present, yet some tiny voice chided her for such assumptions. There had   
always been something a bit primitive lurking under the refined exterior; it   
gave him the intrigue that so easily charmed those around him. It hadn't   
existed in the Silver Millennium, Minako recalled dimly. Endymion had been a   
very well adjusted human being. He had never been so unstable. So it didn't   
surprise Minako that such a peculiarity would simultaneously pain him,   
underdeveloped and deprived as it was; it was something that could   
eventually destroy him had it had the chance. His inner demons were   
excruciatingly strong, and not even Usagi had been able to do more than   
scratch the surface.  
  
He'd never known what it meant to be loved, Minako realized in wonder, and   
therefore didn't understand what it meant to love someone else. Artemis had   
once said that Queen Serenity had wanted the senshi to live lives that would   
allow them to grow and develop in ways that had lacked on the Moon. From   
this, Minako had long since concluded that Mamoru's upbringing was no   
accident.  
  
But the Queen had not truly considered the consequences of subjecting   
Mamoru to such an existence. It had never occurred to the Queen that, in   
his infinite loneliness, he would gladly cross the lines of sanity and   
propriety to keep what he had been denied for so long before.  
  
How could anyone be surprised?  
  
Suddenly Minako felt her heart begin to race. It was a common feeling   
with her; it usually meant that someone close to her was having some sort of   
high-emotion interaction. Each reaction was different for each of her   
friends. From the nature of the pulse and the sweat collecting on her   
forehead, she was actually able to discern that Mamoru was gearing up for   
some sort of confrontation.  
  
He'd never get anywhere with Usagi in her current state of mind. Eyes   
darting around, she wondered if it would be possible to somehow sneak out of   
class.  
  
Through some miracle, this was the moment that a dreamy-eyed water polo   
captain [Ai: Water polo players have the best bodies of *any* sport, hands   
down *drools*] bent down to ask Minako, "Did you finish the English homework   
last night?"  
  
Minako was suddenly struck with a plan. "Nishikawa-kun!" she screeched,   
feigning rage. "At least buy me dinner!"  
  
For the second time in barely three weeks, Minako had effectively usurped   
the class's attention.  
  
"Nishikawa-san!" the teacher scolded. "Are you bothering Aino-san again?"  
  
Nishikawa's horrified blue eyes were wide as saucers. He tried to answer   
the question but failed.  
  
"Both of you are to go to the principal's office NOW!" Tamayo-sensei   
shrieked. With little protest, Minako and Nishikawa scuttled out.  
  
"Good thing that worked," Minako mumbled in relief. Yes, she knew she was   
about to get in serious trouble for this, but the Princess had to be her   
first priority. She fumbled for her henshin stick, in the hopes of   
teleporting there.  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
She'd completely forgotten Nishikawa was there! Swearing under her   
breath, Minako turned to face his wrath, which even she admitted he had a right   
to.  
  
To her surprise, however, Nishikawa was smiling at her, looking at her   
oddly. "You looked upset," he explained matter-of-flatly. "I mean, it's   
not every day a girl yells random sexual innuendo in class."  
  
"This isn't everyday," Minako rationalized tersely. "This friend of mine,   
she's about to make this really big mistake and . . ."  
  
"How are you going to get off campus?" Nishikawa inquired. "They've   
tightened security."  
  
"Have they?" Minako cringed. "I need to get out NOW."  
  
"But then again . . ." Nishikawa flashed a thousand-watt smile. "I've   
always enjoyed a challenge."  
  
Taking her hand, he led her towards the back of the school.  
  
"I don't get it," Minako complained to him. "I've insulted you in class   
twice now. Why are you helping me?"  
  
"Because it takes a lot of balls to do that--metaphorically speaking," he   
tacked on when the blonde glared at him, "and I've always been a fan of   
Sailor V."  
  
She stopped. "Really?"  
  
"Really. Now come on."  
  
They were silent as Nishikawa led her through various buildings and bushes.   
Minako was barely paying attention, seeing as her heart was beating so   
hard it was getting tough to keep up.  
  
"Here we are." Nishikawa proudly stared out into the street. "You'd   
better get going."  
  
"Ah . . . great," she said lamely. "I don't really know how to thank you."  
  
"How about you let me take you to dinner next Friday?"  
  
Minako melted. "Sure," she breathed. "I'd like that." And on that happy   
note, she started running like a bat out of hell, leaving the handsome   
athlete smiling like there was no tomorrow.  
  
********  
  
It had taken Mamoru one hundred and six hours to gather up the courage to   
go to the hospital and see Usagi. When he arrived there, wild-eyed but   
smooth in execution, he zeroed in on a gaunt Rei, who was sitting in a   
plastic hard-backed chair in front of Usagi's room, staring at . . . something.   
He didn't know what.  
  
"Rei-chan?" he whispered softly, trying not to upset her.  
  
Rei looked at him with hazy eyes. "You came," she said emotionlessly,   
never quite focusing on him.  
  
In an instant Mamoru realized why she was here. "Twenty-four hour vigil?"   
he asked, trying to make his scattered mind focus.  
  
"I'd never leave Hime-sama in her time of need," Rei said decisively.   
Looking directly at him, she added, "Unlike you."  
  
Swallowing, he walked inside, trying to ignore the feel of Rei's newly   
sharpened eyes boring into him.  
  
The door slammed shut. Mamoru jumped before realizing Rei had done it.   
Staring at Usagi, he took a long, deep breath.  
  
How tiny she looked among the cacophony of machines and tubes! Mamoru had   
to force himself to not break down there and then. With unsteady steps he   
inched closer to her, trying to make his mouth work.  
  
"I've been waiting for you." Though weak, her voice was firm, resolute.  
  
With a trembling sigh he collapsed into one of the chairs next to her bed.   
She had no idea how much he longed to touch her. With surprising bravery,   
he took an IV-burdened hand and kissed it gently. She accepted the   
affectionate gesture but offered no response, positive or negative.  
  
With this newfound courage Mamoru dared to reach forward and kiss her   
lips, which she also accepted dispassionately. He spotted the star locket   
sitting on the stand next to her bed. Squinting slightly, he tried to determine   
if it was his imagination or if the stone at the center looked darker   
somehow . . .  
  
"I should have come sooner," Mamoru admitted. "Much sooner."  
  
"Like three years ago sooner."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing. Nothing at all."  
  
"Usa--"  
  
"What happened to us, Mamoru?" she interrupted, staring out the window.  
  
He wanted to lie down and die right there but still forced himself to   
remain in one piece, standing up and anxiously pacing to the window.  
  
"I don't know," he began uncertainly. "I honestly don't. I guess I was   
hoping you could tell me that."  
  
"Well, see . . . " Usagi took a deep, noisy breath, "I don't really know   
either. After all, I'm just a child."  
  
That hurt. He tried not to openly wince but he sensed that he failed.  
  
"Just a little girl," she added more forcefully, "just a naïve little   
child who doesn't know anything about love. Isn't that right, *Mamo-chan*?"  
  
Mamoru stilled. "I was upset," he protested. "I didn't know *what* I was   
saying."  
  
"Nice try," Usagi drawled, "but you've made it a point in this   
relationship to make me feel like the girl and you the man."  
  
"Did I?" he pondered aloud. "Did I really?"  
  
"It doesn't matter anymore," Usagi said. "Mamoru . . . we've been heading   
for this moment since I hit you over the head with a test paper."  
  
They hadn't, actually. That moment, eerily close yet seemingly ten   
trillion miles away, would come at a time at which they were changed and   
would change for forever. Love is action, not words. But at the time,   
the important thing was not that it really was, but that Usagi *believed* it   
was. She certainly had Mamoru convinced.  
  
"I've been thinking about it a lot," she said, voice dropping again as the   
anger petered out. "Gods, Mamo-chan, I'm just a little girl, I can't . . .   
I mean . . ."  
  
She started to cry, but when he went to wrap his arms around her, to   
comfort her as he had so many times in the past, she batted his hands out of   
the way. They hung limply at his side, testament to his inability to act   
against her wishes.  
  
"I never understood," she whispered, "never until that day. What you felt   
for me, and what I felt for you. You were so calm all the time . . . I   
never imagined . . . "  
  
Tears came to his eyes. Kneeling at her bedside, he protested, "I can't   
change the past . . . but you have to understand Usa-ko, it was only because   
of you, because I was afraid for you and . . . "  
  
"I understand," she said, patting his head as he sobbed softly into her   
abdomen. "I can even forgive you. But, tell me Mamo-chan . . . what about next   
time?"  
  
"Next time?" His eyes were feral and bloodshot, gleaming like twin black   
holes.  
  
"Next time someone gets hurt. When will you snap, when are we going to   
cross the line again . . . what happens next time?"  
  
"It won't!"  
  
"How can I be sure of that?" she challenged him.  
  
"Because the last thing I'd EVER want to do is hurt you!" he insisted   
piercingly, standing up to prove his vehemence on the matter. Unfortunately,   
his fire seemed to die out and he slunk back into the chair. "But . . . but I   
don't know if that means anything to you," he continued dully. "Maybe it would   
be best if I just left."  
  
"Like last time?"  
  
He started.  
  
"Like every other time?"  
  
"Usa . . ."  
  
"You say you love me, don't you?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"That without me you're nothing?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"And you don't want to see me get hurt!"  
  
"Isn't that obvious?"  
  
"Then WHY ARE YOU LEAVING?"  
  
Outside, as Rei tried her darndest $heh$ not to listen, a breathless   
Minako trudged through the halls of the waiting room, scanning the area for   
life. After a quick flirting session with the cute nurse who let her in each   
day, she snuck back, searching for Rei.  
  
"He's here, isn't he?" Minako grated.  
  
"In there right now," Rei echoed mechanically.  
  
"Oh shit." Dropping onto Rei's lap, she put her ear to the door. "I   
shouldn't go in there now, should I?"  
  
"I'm almost tempted to say yes if it'd get you off my lap."  
  
Back in the room, meanwhile, Mamoru twisted around almost fearfully,   
bracing himself for what came next.  
  
To his surprise, her face was soft and dreamy. A soft mist of tears   
stained her pale cheeks, but she still looked like a tiny goddess to him,   
someone who could easily rip him to shreds should she choose to.  
  
"I love you so, so much," she breathed weakly. "But I've been doing a lot   
of thinking, too. About you, about us . . . and I think that you shouldn't come   
back here again."  
  
Mamoru's lips were white, and his eyes . . . absolutely ghastly. Usagi   
shuddered and looked away.  
  
"Maybe . . . maybe our love *is* the problem . . . I mean, we love each   
other, right? But where has that gotten us? Nothing but sorrow and pain. And   
I know that love is supposed to overcome any barriers, but maybe . . . maybe the   
reason that our love can't fix this is because it is the obstacle in of   
itself."  
  
"No . . . Usa-ko, don't say that . . . "  
  
"What you did that day . . . it was too much. We crossed the line and we   
can't go back. It mustn't. . . . "  
  
"But . . . " He stopped, utterly hopeless. She was *supposed* to   
understand. Why couldn't she? Didn't she love him? The last thought sent   
Mamoru recoiling in sickness and terror.  
  
"Every time I look at you, Mamoru, I'm going to remember that boy's face."  
  
"Usa, please . . . I promise you, on my Honor as the Prince of   
Earth. . . "  
  
"Don't bother," she snarled. "It's too late for oaths. I guess in the   
back of my mind I knew it would come to this, but I wanted to believe you   
were better than that. I used to wonder 'if.' Now I wonder 'when.'"  
  
Again he looked helpless, tangled in his sadness and fury. Outside,   
Minako was everything but paralyzed by rage.  
  
"Please, Usa-ko . . . " He dropped to his knees, heaving at the floor.   
Unable to look up, he persisted, "I can't lose you," he begged. "I'll   
control my impulses. I'll do what you want. It won't ever happen--"  
  
"You're lying," she rasped. "To yourself and to me. Because you will.   
Tell yourself differently, but it WILL happen."  
  
"That's not . . . there won't--"  
  
"It will ALWAYS be 'WHEN!'" she screamed at him. "Like it or not, Mamoru,   
this is on YOUR hands."  
  
A half-truth at best, Minako scowled from the other side of the wall. Rei   
wasn't listening. She was using meditation exercises to distract herself   
from the argument. The high-energy interactions of others tended to make   
herself and her power edgy, something she despised. And there was no   
higher-energy couple than Usagi and Mamoru.  
  
Half-truth or not, though, that was it for Mamoru.  
  
Both Usagi and Minako felt him snap on every level, heard the dull sound   
of his heart splintering in his chest, the tormented, bestial noise he made in   
response. With tedious steps he led himself away, clinging to his last   
shreds of sanity at least until he could be somewhere private.  
  
Usagi listened to him walk out, her tears in sync with his, never turning   
to look at him. This was the only way, she reminded herself. What she and   
Mamoru shared had grown too intense; it had spiraled out of control and now   
affected the well being of innocent people.  
  
Minako had to grip Rei's head (who at this point came back to Earth) to   
keep from falling when Mamoru brushed by roughly.  
  
"Mamoru-san," Minako called, "she's sick! She doesn't know what she's   
talking about!"  
  
"Doesn't she?"  
  
And then he was gone, leaving an odd, cold breeze to go through the room.  
  
"What happened?" Rei inquired unsteadily. "Do you still need to clutch my   
head?"  
  
Minako promptly let go of Rei, falling to the floor with a tremendous   
crash. To Rei's surprise, though, she stood up and brushed herself off.  
  
"They're SO going to regret that," Minako growled. "I'm sure as hell   
planning to make sure that Usagi does."  
  
Marching into the room, Minako started her tirade by screeching, "You   
little fraud!"  
  
Usagi was turned away from her, but Minako saw her thin outline jolt when   
she'd yelled.  
  
"Didn't you WANT proof of his love? What better proof could you *have*?"  
  
Usagi was rigid. Turning slowly, she said in a harsh, reverent voice,   
"How did you find out?"  
  
"I don't know," Minako said honestly. "I dreamt it. Usagi-chan, you know   
as well as I did that what just happened was out of line."  
  
"Don't tell me that," Usagi snapped. "You have no idea how I feel."  
  
"Maybe you should take your own advice," Minako reiterated.  
  
"What do you . . .?" Usagi was genuinely confused.  
  
Inhaling softly, Minako stalked up to the foot of the bed and stridently   
glared at Usagi. "Usagi," she said carefully, "look me in the eye and tell   
me you didn't want it to happen."  
  
"What? I don't understand," Usagi declared unsteadily.  
  
"Yes, you do. I mean it. Look me straight in the eye and say that you   
didn't want Mamoru-san to do what he did."  
  
She didn't even bother to look up. Huffing loudly, she turned back to the   
window.  
  
"You can't do it," Minako taunted her. "You can't do it because I'm right   
and you know it."  
  
"Go away, Minako-chan."  
  
"I'm already going." But as Minako waltzed out, she called to Usagi,   
"Maybe I'll go, but your problems are staying right in this room, Usa-chan."  
  
*******  
  
For a while, it seemed that Usagi's prognosis was steady. She was sadder,   
undoubtedly because of Mamoru, but she smiled and laughed when the Inners   
came and entertained her with their antics, or she received yet *another*   
bouquet from family or friends, or she chatted with her mother about the   
lousy food and nibbled on the cookies her brother slipped her. During this   
time, her heart did not deteriorate further, and the heavy antibiotics   
appeared to be doing their job.  
  
But the doctors were still worried, and Rei gave them credit for realizing   
that things were not as they seemed. Each time Usagi had protested their   
reluctance to release her, Rei saw the plump physician's face distort with   
apprehension.  
  
Haruka was scared too, but not for exactly the same reasons. She had heard   
through the grapevine about Usagi and Mamoru's confrontation. Somehow she   
sensed that Mamoru had not taken it well. She dropped by his apartment one   
night. The lights had been off and she received no answer at the door. But   
when she looked up to the balcony she had seen him, staring alternately at   
the moon and the cold pavement below in a rather bleak fashion.  
  
That was the night the pieces started to come together in her mind. Try   
as she might, however, Haruka could not quite make the connection.  
  
The locket was the most logical link. All three had some sort of   
emotional investment in it, and all three had been holding it at some time   
when the Wraith had attacked . . . yet Sailorsaturn had destroyed said Wraith.   
And Usagi and Mamoru's problems had existed long before Michiru had been   
involved.  
  
What was the locket doing, then? If the locket really were a symbol of   
true love, then why would it conspire to break Usagi and Mamoru apart?  
  
All of that was on Haruka's mind that day as she walked into the hospital   
that day. Holding the cold locket in her palm, her eyes widened in horror   
as she watched several doctors whiz by, all working frantically to revive   
the girl on the gurney, the girl who, according to the shouts of the   
doctors, had no pulse.  
  
And Usagi was the girl on the gurney.  
  
The locket slipped to the ground, clattering loudly in the bare hall.  
  
"Haruka-san?" A pale, haggard Rei looked at her through feverish   
amethysts.  
  
"What . . . happened . . . ?" The tall girl suddenly found her legs were   
too weak to support her body. She wavered on her feet as if intoxicated,   
trying to keep herself from passing out.  
  
Rei, like an angel, reached out, steadied Haruka, and led her to a chair.   
Wordlessly she pulled the older senshi into the seat and proceeded to rub   
Haruka's temples, relaxing both of them some.  
  
"I can't . . . this is . . . what . . . "  
  
"It started last night," Rei said blankly. "About half an hour ago, her   
heart failed completely. I called her parents . . . they're on the way."  
  
"What?" As her coherence returned, Haruka's eyes narrowed on Rei. "Why   
now?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Rei admitted. "But I talked to Minako-chan yesterday.   
She said that Luna was still sensing drainage from the ginzuishou. I think   
it might've crashed again--"  
  
"What's that sound?" Haruka stood up suddenly, her gaze darting back and   
forth.  
  
"Sound?"  
  
"The music," she said, still looking around. "Where is it coming from?"  
  
Rei's ears perked. "Come to think of it, I do sense an odd presence in   
the room. Not evil, but . . ."  
  
"Oh, Gods."  
  
Haruka and Rei's eyes simultaneously focused on the mournful song of the   
locket.  
  
********  
  
". . . fortunately for your daughter, not for that unlucky soul or his   
family, a young man died about six hours ago. His heart is a near perfect match   
for Usagi-san's. We couldn't hope for better. As wary as I am about risking   
weakening her immune system, the staff and I agree that the transplant is   
the most prudent course at this point."  
  
"Are you sure about that?" Kenji stared at his pretty wife, who, though   
no more than forty, looked to be a thousand. "A heart transplant is a very   
serious step."  
  
"45% of her heart has now completely failed, Kenji-san. The valves around   
the heart are shot, and she will suffer brain damage if we don't get them   
fixed right away. We have to do this ASAP."  
  
"Of course, doctor," Ikuko said stonily. "Do what you must."  
  
"The operation will be some time tonight. She's stable right now. I'll   
allow family and friends to see her within the next hour or so, but after   
that she's going to the anesthesiologist."  
  
********  
  
"So you've never heard the song before?"  
  
"No, I haven't. It sounded *like* the Moonlight Densetsu, but . . .   
warped." Rei groaned. "I hate waiting."  
  
"So do I," Haruka intoned, "but complaining about it only seems to make   
things go slower."  
  
Rei sighed and turned away from Haruka. "Why do you have it, anyway?"  
  
"Michiru was using it for a piece she's been writing." Somehow Haruka   
knew that telling Rei the piece had been a Requiem would upset the girl. "I   
thought Usagi might want it."  
  
"Why would you think that? She told Mamoru-san off."  
  
"Maybe," Haruka conceded, "but there are these moments when she thought no   
one was looking . . . you could tell that she wanted him there."  
  
"I see." Rei fingered the locket in Haruka's hands. "I think she's   
hiding something," Rei uttered, looking away.  
  
"So are we all."  
  
"Rei-chan?"  
  
"Tsukino-san!" Rei sprang up with new energy and bowed to Usagi's mother.   
"Is everything all right?"  
  
Ikuko bit her lip. "They're doing a full heart transplant," the woman   
whispered.  
  
Rei and Haruka exchanged glances. "That bad?" Rei uttered through white   
lips.  
  
Ikuko nodded, trying not to cry. "They stabilized her. You can see her   
if you want."  
  
Haruka picked up the locket and silently followed Rei to Usagi's room,   
still trying to place the strange song from the locket.  
  
********  
  
Usagi gazed steadily out the window, still deep in thought. Mamoru was on   
her mind, of course--when wasn't he? Closing her eyes, she remembered the   
anguished plea in his slate eyes, trying to forget its insinuations.  
  
She'd thrown him out because she was afraid, hadn't she? Afraid of the   
truth. Afraid of hurting him. Afraid of . . .  
  
"Neko-chan?"  
  
Haruka's voice cracked and wavered in a strangely fluid way. Usagi turned   
to stare at the proud Outer senshi, looking hopelessly lost, clinging to her   
sanity by a finer thread than she knew.  
  
"Haruka-san," Usagi croaked feebly.  
  
Haruka stepped up to the bed and ruffled Usagi's bangs. "Don't talk,   
neko-chan. Save your breath." Usagi's lips turned up slightly.  
  
Rei stepped in presently, gracefully striding to Usagi's side. "Are you   
feeling any better, Hime-sama?"  
  
Usagi didn't answer her.  
  
"I'll take that as a no," Rei murmured worriedly.  
  
"Neko-chan," Haruka smiled, "I brought you something." She placed the   
locket in Usagi's lap.  
  
Usagi's eyes grew wide. "My . . . " she whispered reverently. Slowly her   
hand coiled around the piece, caressing it lightly.  
  
"I thought you might want it back," Haruka said. From the content look on   
Usagi's face, Haruka had guessed right. Rei's face broke into a real smile.   
Brushing away the bangs Haruka had messed up, she entwined her left hand   
with Usagi's free one.  
  
"You have to get better, Usagi-chan," Rei said quietly. "For yourself as   
well as the rest of us."  
  
Usagi stared at the locket. Her fingers moved quickly to unlatch the   
little piece, but in her drugged state she lacked the alacrity required for   
the task.  
  
"Let me." Haruka carefully pried open the locket. Within moments, the   
new, doleful song of the locket began to play. Cringing, Haruka faced   
Usagi.  
  
To her surprise, though, Usagi did not seem to mind. "I like it," she   
murmured softly. "Matches how I feel."  
  
Haruka and Rei exchanged looks. "We'd better leave, Usagi-chan," Rei   
said. "You're supposed to go under soon."  
  
"But we'll be waiting for you," Haruka promised. "Don't worry about a   
thing, neko-chan. We'll watch over you."  
  
Usagi couldn't even make herself smile for them as they walked away.  
  
********  
  
Days passed, seasons stayed the same. Haruka felt as if she were stuck in   
a time loop, unable to quite give up or find the courage to break free.   
Cursing herself as a coward, she said in the chair of the waiting room,   
impatiently waiting for news . . . any news.  
  
It was foolish for her to her to hope against all hope that she was wrong,   
that the Wraith *had* been speaking literally when It had cursed Usagi. She   
just wanted to pretend, pretend it never happened, pretend it would all go   
away like the bad dreams Michiru had held her through, on nights when   
shameless weeping and anguish were all right. On nights she felt loved.  
  
*The song you hold in your heart will be your death march.*  
  
"Tsukino-tachi?"  
  
Haruka had forgotten about the other people in the room, the four Inners   
huddled together, the family united in their misery. Haruka sat apart,   
watching as the pompous doctor's exhausted lump trod through the door.  
  
"How did it go?" Kenji inquired stonily, showing no real emotion on his   
face.  
  
The doctor let out a deep breath. "As well as we could have expected," he   
said quietly. "The infection ravaged the valves and completely deadened   
large parts her heart. Unfortunately . . ." He sighed again. "She'll be on   
immune suppressants to keep her body from rejecting the new heart, but we   
believe that your daughter is on the road to recovery."  
  
"May we see her?" Rei asked expectantly, standing up abruptly.  
  
The doctor looked over Rei and said slowly, "We prefer immediate family   
only."  
  
"Let her go," Ikuko said.  
  
With a grateful smile, Rei stepped into the hallway, ignoring the doctor's   
disconcertion.  
  
Makoto looked over at Ikuko's tiny smile. The Amazonian senshi realized   
that, though she may not know all of the details, indeed knew that these   
girls were, for whatever reason, charged with watching over her daughter.  
  
Rei, meanwhile, stepped into the recovery room, where Usagi was still   
recovering from heavy anesthesia. Limp raven strands hung around the pretty   
miko's face. Her violet eyes seemed gray as she examined Usagi's   
near-lifeless form attached to the machines.  
  
She didn't cry, despite how badly she wanted to. Rei took a deep breath   
and steadied herself. She stepped forward again, eyes never leaving Usagi's   
pallid face, assured that she was breathing on her own, however shallowly.  
  
She reached out her hand.  
  
"Mamo-chan?"  
  
Frightened, Rei drew back, biting her lip so hard she drew blood.  
  
"Mamo-chan . . ." She was holding her locket.  
  
"Amazing," a voice came from behind her. Rei jumped.  
  
Two blondes, one with a big red bow on her head, one with a short, choppy   
cut, were in the doorway. Minako and Haruka walked forward, seeming   
infinitely comfortable in each other's presence. In times like these, Rei   
realized with a heavy heart, there was no Inner and Outer senshi. There   
were the Senshi and everyone else.  
  
"Amazing," Minako repeated impassively. "After that performance last   
week, I almost thought that she had said goodbye for all time."  
  
Haruka looked away. "It may be yet."  
  
With a wrenching gasp, Rei launched herself in Haruka's arms, sobbing   
painfully into the taller girl's chest. Haruka held her awkwardly, not   
certain what to do with this sudden burst of emotion. So she simply stood   
as Minako tried to calm down the bawling Rei.  
  
A few minutes later, Rei pulled herself together, though her eyes looked   
dead. After some quarreling with Minako, she allowed herself to be taken   
out of the room and back to the shrine, where she eventually slipped into a   
light, troubled sleep.  
  
Haruka drove back to her hotel and waited a long while before slipping   
into the same restless slumber.  
  
********  
  
Soft lips, sleek hair across a cheek. Long, slender fingers brushed her   
neck, making her tremble. Haruka groaned softly, already aroused by   
Michiru's seductive caress. Taking her roughly, Haruka dragged her lips   
across the lovely woman's own.  
  
Michiru laughed, a sound like soft bells. Haruka responded more   
provocatively, wrapping her fingers in the silken aqua strands, deepening   
the kiss the women shared.  
  
When she had finished running her hands through Michiru's hair, she came   
down and gently unbuttoned Michiru's blouse, slipping the garment off her   
lover's slim shoulders.  
  
But just as she was about to work off the bra, Haruka opened her eyes--and   
gasped.  
  
"Michiru," she whispered as she pushed the woman away, overwhelmed with   
repulsion.  
  
Where Michiru's shadow was cast, there was a gaping hole in the chest.  
  
Michiru blinked innocently. "Is something the matter, aisuru?" she   
queried, seeming to not notice the hole where her heart should've been. She   
stood up, which confirmed that this was real and not a mere trick of the   
light.  
  
"Your heart. . . . " Haruka couldn't say anything.  
  
"What heart?" she asked mechanically.  
  
"Michiru . . . "  
  
"Haruka," Michiru straddled herself in Haruka's lap, tenderly caressing   
her tomboyish lover's face, "don't you love me?" Anyone could have seen it, the   
love and adoration in her eyes, but Michiru's love for Haruka never came   
into question.  
  
Aroused, then reminded again of Michiru's serious defect, she scrambled   
away, unable to speak.  
  
"What's wrong?" Michiru was beginning to get angry.  
  
"You have a hole where your heart should be?" Haruka was growing scared.  
  
With fiery eyes she turned to glare at her lover. "No," she said   
forcefully, scaring Haruka to death, "I am here with you, Haruka, because by   
your side is where I belong," she snapped.  
  
"But . . . "  
  
"Don't you love me?"  
  
"Of course I do!"  
  
"As I you. And they told that in order to be here with you I had to leave   
my heart in Hell."  
  
"Michiru?"  
  
"My love . . . for all you fight it, you need me. But you chose. Between   
the Princess and myself, you chose her. I can't begrudge you that. But you   
chose. I sold myself to follow you here, and now . . . now . . . now you spurn me for it!"  
  
"Michiru . . . please listen to me--"  
  
"There is nothing to be said!"  
  
The room exploded.  
  
Fire was everywhere, Haruka was forced to breathe in the heady smoke and   
frantically tried to find Michiru. The world around her blazed; searing   
heat pressed through her skin and rushed through her veins. Colors became   
nothing more than a palette of gray, red, and black.  
  
And in all the haze, she saw, saw as her poor beautiful lover was   
incarcerated in the flame, screaming Haruka's name even as her being was   
consumed by the energy, an energy made of the purest, whitest hatred and the   
blackest love.  
  
Haruka collapsed, weeping as she breathed in the smoke. Blocking out the   
driving chaos around her, she waited without really knowing; she waited   
until there was quiet and cold and she could hear herself think.  
  
Before she knew it had been given to her. With rough motions she stood up,   
searching for her lover.  
  
"Michiru?" The voice was quiet and pitifully weak.  
  
"There is no longer a Michiru here."  
  
Where her lover once stood was now a screaming Wraith.  
  
********  
  
With a gasp, Haruka awakened, tearing flowing freely from her eyes. In a   
series of abrupt motion-like actions, she jerked herself into her car,   
forgetting she wore only a large collared shirt her underwear, and a pair of   
socks.  
  
Each step towards the hospital seemed more torturous than the last, yet   
somehow she slipped through the security cracks again, probably thanks to   
her power as the Senshi of Wind. Shivering with cold, she walked to Usagi's   
room instinctively, rushed yet very steady.  
  
The proud Princess of her memory was shriveling before her very eyes, and   
for the first time in her life, Haruka felt utterly helpless. At this   
point, she knew there was nothing more she could do.  
  
But there was someone who could.  
  
Someone knew the answer.  
  
Someone would face the truth.  
  
Haruka trudged on, despite her bone-deep weariness.  
  
********  
  
In what seemed an instant later (Haruka never really knew how long it took   
her; it may have been a few minutes and it may have been a few hours), she   
was at another door, knocking this time, frantic, angry, and empty. With   
ferocious strength her hand came down on the door once, twice,   
thrice--again. And again, she did not know how long she knocked, only that   
her hand hurt for days afterwards.  
  
When Dr. Tomoe answered, mumbling something about salespeople, he stared at   
Haruka through hazy, blind eyes, having been too drowsy to remember where   
his glasses were. But he somehow recognized Haruka.  
  
"Ten'oh-san?" The scientist looked puzzled. "What time is it?"  
  
"I need to see Hotaru-chan."  
  
"She's asleep, Ten'oh-san. Call in the morning."  
  
"Otou-san?" A sleepy Hotaru shivered in the night air under her thin boxer   
set. "Who's there?"  
  
"Go back to bed, matsujo. You have school in the morning."  
  
"Hotaru-chan!" Haruka cried wildly. "Hotaru-chan, I need to talk to you!"  
  
"Haruka-papa?" The raven bell of hair rose, revealing glassy violet eyes.   
"Haruka-papa, is that you?"  
  
"Hotaru-chan . . . it's about Hime-sama . . ."  
  
"Hime-sama?" Hotaru snapped to attention. Surveying her father's puzzled   
expression, she said very seriously, "Otou-san, Haruka-papa needs my help.   
I have to go with her now."  
  
"MATSUJO!" Too late. Despite the freezing weather, Hotaru fled shoeless   
into the cold night air with Haruka at her side.  
  
********  
  
Maybe it looked silly to see a barefoot Hotaru, wearing only her thin   
chemise and Haruka's parka, but no one in the waiting room was laughing that   
night. That night, Haruka remembered later, there were no family or friends   
milling in the lobby, simply six senshi, all together and all alone at   
once.  
  
It was better that way. The senshi were beginning to resent the visitors   
and family's constant presence, despite their perfect right to be there.   
This was their Princess; she was their responsibility and their astute   
privilege, and she was not to be shared.  
  
Now Haruka dared to look up. Minako stared listlessly out a window, eyes   
cool and calm. None of her usual vigor or good cheer was with her that   
night.  
  
Ami and Makoto sat by each other, offering words of comfort and sorrow.  
  
Rei didn't stare anywhere; her eyes were dull and her fire had long since   
been extinguished. With a heavy heart she tried to make eye contact with   
Haruka, but found she lacked the strength.  
  
Hotaru merely observed, as she had been doing all her life, but for all   
her icy indifference and the power of Saturn behind her, she was as   
vulnerable as they.  
  
"This is my fault." Hotaru's lips trembled as she spoke. "I should   
intervened sooner, but . . . Setsuna-mama . . ."  
  
Haruka turned. "Setsuna-mama what?" she asked, looking confused.  
  
"Setsuna-mama wanted me to stay clear of battle," Hotaru replied quietly.   
"She said I was too young to wield my power properly. I broke taboo when I   
fought in the battle with the Damned One."  
  
Rei's ears perked up. "Do you mean the Wraith?" she inquired, finally   
focusing on Hotaru.  
  
"I don't understand," Minako said. "It was just some stupid shadow, wasn't   
it?"  
  
"I knew it," Rei muttered. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it."  
  
Minako glared at her. "That's good for you," she rolled her eyes, "but why   
in God's name didn't you say anything earlier?"  
  
"I-I wasn't sure," Rei said, tears forming in her eyes. "I didn't want to   
believe it. I . . . I'm afraid."  
  
A sharp, bitter laugh rang out. "That's it then," Minako bit, laughing   
again, "that's why this happened. We were afraid. We were afraid of   
Mamoru-san and we were afraid of interfering. Every last one of us. And   
don't you DARE hide behind Setsuna-san's appeals, Hotaru-chan. You didn't   
want to question it because we were afraid of the answer."  
  
Haruka wanted to cry.  
  
"Don't jump on her, Minako!" Rei snapped. "None of us did anything. We   
*all* sat around and watched this happen!"  
  
"May I see her?" Hotaru's voice was quiet and strangely defeated.  
  
Haruka quietly led Hotaru into the halls, mapping the best way to sneak   
past the nurses to Usagi's room.  
  
"I cannot believe that you would have the AUDACITY--"  
  
"Oh, hush up you hot-headed brat!" Minako screamed at Rei. "You just said   
you saw this coming, so don't act all high and mighty with me, Rei!"  
  
"Listen, you little tease--"  
  
"I am NOT a tease!"  
  
"She's right, Rei-chan." A booming, womanly effigy stood in the doorway   
of the waiting room, her rich olive skin and deep green hair illuminated by the   
weak fluorescent light. Warm magenta eyes were...mournful, yet maintained   
an odd sparkle. "Minako-chan is by no means a tease."  
  
While the other three senshi reeled, Minako took this as an opportunity to   
cut in with, "See? See, Rei-chan? Even Setsuna-san's defending me!"  
  
"After all," the senshi of Time added with a twinkle in her eye, "Minako   
can't be a tease as long as she's still sleeping around."  
  
"Yeah, exactly!" Minako bellowed. "Hey! Waaaaaaaaiiiiiiiit..."  
  
Setsuna simply smiled. "It's good to see all of you again," she began,   
her face growing serious. "I had hoped our reunion would be on more pleasant   
terms, but the situation at hand has become dire in nature."  
  
"We're happy to see you," Ami greeted her, speaking up for the first time   
that evening. "In fact, we have some questions that maybe you can answer."  
  
She shook her head. "I am more ignorant of the current state of affairs   
than any of you are. The Keeper of Time is not supposed to watch the time   
stream flow. It curbs the temptation to intervene. Nonetheless," Setsuna   
sighed, "even from another dimension I could sense Hotaru-chan's distress.   
She makes for an excellent barometer."  
  
"Is that so," Ami mused.  
  
"Are you going to explain that little crack now, Setsuna-san?"  
  
"My, my, aren't we defensive. Did I strike a chord?"  
  
Minako turned several shades of red.  
  
"So what are we to do?" Rei interjected, deliberately ignoring Minako.  
  
"To tell you the truth . . . " Setsuna looked tired; for the first time   
the senshi saw her thousand-plus years reflected in her ruby eyes. "To tell   
you the truth, I don't know."  
  
"Setsuna-mama?"  
  
The woman turned around. Still barefoot, Hotaru stared at the imposing   
woman, eyes overflowing with awe and elation.  
  
"Hotaru-chan," Setsuna beamed. In a flash, Hotaru was swept into the   
older woman's arms, showing an affection and warmth the senshi had not   
previously observed in the woman. Hugging the small Hotaru to her chest, long   
fingers with perfect nails stroked the girl's hair in a motherly fashion,   
comforting the both of them.  
  
Haruka stood in the hall, eyes nearly dead. "You're here," she punctuated   
slowly, her empty expression sweeping over the woman.  
  
Setsuna looked sad. "I should have come sooner, Haruka."  
  
"You're telling me." Haruka slipped away, disappearing into the cold night   
air.  
  
********  
  
"You finally dragged Rei-chan home?"  
  
"According to her grandfather, being stuffed up in that hospital was bad   
for her," Minako said to Motoki as she sat forlornly at the bar.   
"Ami-chan's with her, making sure she doesn't go back."  
  
"Wait," Motoki interrupted Rei, "I thought that Rei-chan and Usagi-chan   
fought all the time."  
  
Makoto leaned forward. "They'd never admit it," Makoto divulged, "but in   
the end, there are no two more loyal friends than Usagi-chan and Rei-chan.   
I guess in that way they're almost sisters."  
  
"I see." Motoki wiped the counter listlessly. "Speaking of Usagi-chan,   
how is she doing after her operation?"  
  
The brown-haired senshi closed her eyes. "Not well," Minako said   
honestly. "Her heart's not accepting the body, and since she's on drugs that   
weaken her immune system, she's having an even harder time fighting off the   
infection now. They . . . " Makoto leaned into Motoki's ear. "They're not   
sure if she's going to make it."  
  
"Oh Gods." Motoki turned white. The first thing he thought of was what   
this would do to Mamoru. "You're serious, aren't you?"  
  
"Do you actually think I could kid about something like that?" Makoto   
hissed. "Give me a break, Motoki-san."  
  
"Sorry," he apologized. "I'm a little on edge these days."  
  
"On edge? Why?"  
  
Motoki exhaled. "Mamoru-kun . . . he's been . . . not well."  
  
"Not well?"  
  
"I guess," Motoki admitted unsteadily.  
  
"Well I know he argued with Usagi-chan," Mako informed him, "but I haven't   
seen hide nor hair of him lately."  
  
"Maybe that's because he hasn't left his apartment since then," Motoki   
stated flatly.  
  
Mako[to looked up, green eyes meeting green. "What?" she queried, curiosity   
getting the better of her.  
  
"You heard me," Motoki replied. "I mean . . . well, he's never been happy,   
you know. With the parents being dead and all."  
  
"Even with . . .?"  
  
"He was never comfortable with his feelings towards Usagi-chan," Motoki   
responded. "Mamoru-kun was never truly happy in love. He was afraid   
opening up would come back to haunt him." Motoki expressionlessly wiped an   
invisible spot off the counter. "I used to be jealous of him, you know," he   
told Makoto. "He's brilliant, independent, talented--the girls fall over   
him. And pretty loaded to boot. But all that came at a very, very high   
price."  
  
Makoto squirmed uncomfortably under Motoki's gaze. All this new   
information was unsettling for her. "Wow," she commented, not looking up.   
"Um . . . I'd better go." She turned to leave.  
  
A strong arm gripped her wrist. Twirling back around, she saw Motoki,   
looking at her in a pained fashion.  
  
"Motoki-san . . ."  
  
Motoki's breathing was ragged and his grip a little painful. Awakening   
from her daze, Makoto now fully absorbed the extent of Motoki's own private   
demon, his continual inability to help his best friend. Makoto quietly   
placed a smooth hand on Motoki's trembling cheek.  
  
"Tell me," Makoto said quietly. "Please."  
  
"He really does love her," Motoki said, taking in a long, quivering breath.   
"But he's scared of something. I don't know what, but . . . I think it   
has to do with what happened."  
  
"What happened?" Makoto held her breath hopefully.  
  
"I . . . I have American pen pals I talk to for my English class," Motoki   
whispered. "One of them is in an anime club at Harvard. A-around the time   
Mamoru-san announced he was staying at Harvard for another year . . . there   
were . . . problems."  
  
"What problems?" The tall brown-haired girl tried to keep her voice calm,   
trying not to frighten the already terrified Motoki.  
  
"A robbery somewhere near campus," Motoki murmured. "People . . . people   
died. When I tried to talk to Mamoru-san about it he'd always changed the   
subject. But I knew . . . I mean I always got the feeling . . . and yesterday,   
I went to see him, and he was so lost, Makoto-chan, I didn't know what to   
do . . . I . . . it scared me."  
  
Tears fell freely from both sets of eyes. Makoto wiped hers away but   
Motoki didn't even bother. Slinking into a booth, Motoki continued, "He was   
never happy until he met her," Motoki murmured. "Never. But from the   
second she walked into his life, he . . . he changed for the better. And to   
see him like that yesterday, unable to do anything but watch him. . . like   
that . . . my best friend . . . I hated it . . . he said that he was a   
murderer and she was his next victim. For the first time, Makoto, I was   
scared of him. Really scared of him. I didn't even know it was possible   
for someone to be in that much pain and still breathing." Motoki let out a   
breath, a low hiss of relief. "He made me promise not to tell anyone, but .   
. . "  
  
"You did the right thing," Makoto said weakly. "Please don't worry any   
longer, Motoki-san."  
  
Motoki rubbed his face with his palms. "I don't know why, but I got the   
feeling you could help," he said dully. "Don't blame him for this, Makoto.   
He does enough of that himself."  
  
She smiled through the glitter of her tears, her anger towards Mamoru now   
completely evaporated. And for the first time, she realized that just as   
Mamoru so effortlessly hurt Usagi, Mamoru was just as easily bruised. She   
broke into a run towards the Hikawa shrine.  
  
********  
  
"American crime records!" Makoto screamed as she slid into the main room of   
the temple.  
  
"Excusez-moi?" Rei asked, not even looking up from her tarot card spread.  
  
"Ami-chan, can you find police reports for any crimes committed in the   
Boston area about nine months ago?" Makoto asked breathlessly.  
  
"Police reports?" Ami asked incredulously. "In order to that, I'd have to   
be able to hack into the United States government's mainframe and sort   
through what could easily be thousands of records in order to find one   
matching whatever description you have for me, then translate it into   
Japanese because my abilities aren't strong enough for formal   
English-language documents."  
  
"Which means?" Makoto looked a little impatient.  
  
"Sometime this evening," Ami ventured.  
  
Two heads whipped around. "Are you serious?" Makoto said, jaw hanging   
limply on the floor.  
  
"Of course," Ami said with a wicked gleam in her eye. "You don't play   
around with computers 24-7 without picking up some useful skills."  
  
"Useful skills?"  
  
"Let's just say that the only 89 I received in my academic career will   
never see the light of day," Ami said fiendishly.  
  
Rei looked stricken. "You can DO that?!" she asked, immediately   
processing the potential benefits of this new piece of information.  
  
"So, Ami-chan . . . "  
  
"No."  
  
"I was just asking for information!"  
  
"Sure, Mako-chan, I really believe that. Now do you want me to find that   
file or not?"  
  
********  
  
"This is a nice room, Haruka," Setsuna commented as she looked around the   
luxurious suite Haruka was staying in, "But then, I've always been fond of   
the Four Seasons chain. Is the liquor free?"  
  
"Doesn't matter. You can have some if you'd like," Haruka said listlessly   
from her spot on the plush velvet couch. The sounds of Hotaru watching TV   
floated in from another room.  
  
"Thank you." To Haruka's surprise, Setsuna poured herself a generous   
glass of scotch and seated herself in an elegant Victorian-era armchair. "The   
quarters at the Time Gate are a little sparse," she explained. "Apparently   
the last keeper had austere tastes. I keep telling myself I'll redecorate   
but I never seem to find time."  
  
"That's hilarious, Setsuna-san," Haruka rolled her eyes.  
  
"Well," Setsuna looked over at Haruka rather witheringly, "at least it got   
a response besides total apathy."  
  
"Your idea of making me feel better is making bad puns and talking about   
the décor?"  
  
"Nothing else seems to have worked." Setsuna sipped her champagne. "This   
is excellent liquor," she commented, seeming pleased. "Another thing I   
don't get the privilege of partaking in while at the Gate," she explained,   
swirling the drink around. "You wouldn't happen to have a cocktail shaker,   
would you? I haven't had a good martini since the Depression."  
  
"Does this have a point, Setsuna-san?" Haruka scowled.  
  
"I don't know, Haruka." Setsuna's tone instantly turned professional.   
"After all, you haven't exactly been anxious to get to business."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Haruka barked, immediately sitting up.  
  
"'Pride often goes before a fall,'" Setsuna quipped. "Your lover has been   
behaving in a way completely unlike her, your Princess is dying, and your   
Prince may as well be, for the good it's doing us. Now what are you going   
to do about it?"  
  
"I don't know," Haruka sighed. "I . . . I was wondering. . . you knew   
about the attack by the Wraith, right?"  
  
"I was in the middle of fixing a time rip. I sensed Hotaru-chan's henshin,   
but by the time I was finished, the battle was long over."  
  
"I see," Haruka said uncertainly. "Well . . . Saturn-chan . . . she   
destroyed the youma. Used her 'Silence Glaive Surprise' attack."  
  
Setsuna paused. "Haruka, will you please reiterate what the meaning of   
the word 'wraith?'"  
  
"What? What are you talking about?"  
  
"This is for your benefit, not for mine. Go on."  
  
"Well . . . " Haruka paused. "A wraith is . . . a ghost, right? A   
spirit."  
  
"Good," Setsuna praised her. "Now let me ask you a question: an attack   
like the 'Silence Glaive Surprise' has the ability to do great damage to   
matter on the physical plane. It *cannot* destroy matter that exists on a   
spiritual plane, correct?"  
  
"Of course. So?" But Haruka already knew where this was going.  
  
"Your Wraith had no body. Could you please explain to me how a creature   
with no physical essence can be destroyed with physical power?"  
  
"Wait . . . WHAT?!" Haruka launched herself off the couch. "Why the hell   
didn't anyone say anything?! We all assumed the stupid thing was dead!"  
  
"That's a good question," Setsuna rejoined. "And the answer is in the   
other room watching television."  
  
Completely indignant, Haruka stormed into the television room, screeching   
girlishly, "Why didn't you TELL anyone the Wraith wasn't dead?!"  
  
Hotaru looked up from her seat on the sofa. "I never said it was dead,"   
she replied seriously.  
  
Haruka stopped. "But we . . . we . . . "  
  
"It's inside her Heart, just like it has been all along."  
  
The phone rang. Haruka glowered and yelled at Setsuna, "Pick it up   
already!"  
  
"Ten'oh-san's suite. How may I help you?"  
  
With Setsuna now occupied with the phone, Haruka had time to process what   
the little Senshi of Death was saying. "Wait a moment," Haruka seethed,   
"are you telling me that . . . that Creature . . . so It really is inside   
her heart?"  
  
The raven bell of hair bobbed up and down.  
  
"But . . . how . . . how is this possible?" Haruka mentally reviewed the   
battle scene. "When . . . "  
  
"Haruka! Hotaru-chan! You'd better get in here!"  
  
"Not now, Setsuna-san!"  
  
"It's Ami-chan. The Inners found something."  
  
"Shit," Haruka cursed. Grumbling, she prodded Hotaru into the conference   
room.  
  
"Hold on," Setsuna told Ami. "I'll put you on the speakerphone." After a   
moment, she found the correct button and pressed.  
  
"Haruka-san? Setsuna-san? It's Ami. Can you hear me?"  
  
"Loud and clear," Haruka replied. "What's up?"  
  
"Mako-chan got a tip from Motoki-san earlier. We found out what happened   
at Harvard. There was an article in the Boston Globe about it."  
  
Haruka looked over at Setsuna, who seemed confused. "He's been acting   
strange since he came back." Haruka quickly brought Setsuna up to speed,   
with Ami chiming in occasionally from the Inners' line.  
  
"Okay, what did you find?" Haruka asked finally.  
  
"Hear for yourself. Minako-chan, will you be able to translate it for the   
Outers?"  
  
After some shuffling, another voice came on. "Haruka-san? This is   
Minako."  
  
"Go ahead," Haruka said, clutching at the chair where Setsuna was sitting.  
  
"The date is March 29th, which is about four days before Mamoru-san told   
Usagi-chan he was planning to stay another year. According to the article,   
there was a robbery at a convenience store just off campus. Two guys barged   
in and demanded all the money from the register. At the time of the   
robbery, the people in the store were the night manager, who is in the back,   
a clerk, a young couple with their kid and a study group from Harvard. One   
of the members of the group was Mamoru-san."  
  
"A convenience-store knock-off?!" Haruka was incredulous. "THAT's why he   
dumped her?"  
  
"Don't start jump to any conclusions," Minako warned. "This gets better.   
The two thieves had guns on them. The clerk started breaking down, so one   
of the guys shot her. She died instantly. The two guys take all cash out   
of the now-open register and apparently planned to take off with the cash   
and leave everyone be. Here's where it starts getting messy: the baby   
starts crying really, really loudly, and the mother picks the kid up, hoping   
to calm her down. One of the guys was really jittery, at least according to   
the report, and ends up shooting the kid."  
  
"What the--"  
  
"Cretin." Setsuna's mouth was set in a hard line. "Go on, Minako-chan."  
  
"The mother starts crying now, which sets the guy off again. He's getting   
ready to shoot again when someone sneaks up behind him and starts choking   
him. The gun went off and hit the mother in the face. And guess who   
proceeds to stab the shooter with a knife the owner kept behind the   
counter?"  
  
No one said a word.  
  
"Well, guess."  
  
Still nothing.  
  
"It was Mamoru-san, baka!"  
  
"We know," Haruka hissed into the speaker.  
  
"Just checking," Minako replied testily. "We called up the police record.   
There are pictures of the victims. And get this--the mother *looks* like   
Usagi-chan! I mean, it's not an exact match, but if you aged her by 10   
years, lightened her hair and eyes and took down the odango, that'd pretty   
much be what this woman looked like. Ami-chan thinks Mamoru-san was so   
panicked he mentally associated the threat to this woman as a threat to   
Usagi-chan."  
  
"So the boy in the park wasn't the first," Haruka murmured in horror.  
  
"WHAT?!" three voices chorused.  
  
"How did you know about that?!" Minako cried.  
  
"What do the two of you know?" Setsuna blanched.  
  
"I'm flipping off the speakerphone," Haruka announced. "Let me talk to   
Minako-chan in private."  
  
"Haruka--"  
  
"I'll explain everything in a minute. Now just go." Setsuna and Hotaru   
silently acquiesced.  
  
"Minako-chan?"  
  
"Tell me how you knew about this," Minako demanded.  
  
"I will if *you* tell *me*," Haruka retorted.  
  
"I asked first," Mina snapped. "Hurry up."  
  
"Usagi-chan came to us the morning it happened and told us the story,"   
Haruka admitted. "She made Michiru and me promise not to tell anyone. Now   
how about you, Minako-chan?"  
  
"I had a dream about it. I think Usagi-chan accidentally transferred the   
memory to me. The whole thing was in slow motion, and let me tell you   
something, Haruka-san, she wanted that kid dead as much as he did."  
  
There was shouting in the back. "The peanut gallery's having a   
conniption," she apologized. "I'd better go. Meet us at the Hikawa shrine   
in half an hour, Haruka-san, and bring Setsuna-san and Hotaru-chan." The   
phone clicked off.  
  
********  
  
"So what exactly did Minako say, again?"  
  
"I've repeated it six times already, Setsuna-san!"  
  
"Say it a seventh."  
  
"All right," Haruka groaned, trying to focus on the road, "she told me that   
in her dream, Usagi wanted Mamoru-san to off the kid. But that's typical,   
considering the fact the boy was about to rape her."  
  
In the rearview mirror of her convertible, Haruka could see Hotaru jump   
when she said the word 'rape.'  
  
"Is something the matter, Hotaru-chan?"  
  
"Do you really think that's why she wanted the boy dead?"  
  
Haruka cocked her head, exchanging a look with Setsuna. "It was a pretty   
good theory, in my opinion. I mean, if some lowlife tried to do that to   
me--"  
  
"That's not why she wanted him dead."  
  
Another look passed between the two older Outers. "Usagi-sama would have   
never wanted someone dead just because they hurt her. That's not how she   
thinks."  
  
"But--"  
  
"She might want him dead for someone else's sake, though."  
  
The two women were silent. "Oh God," Haruka said, shaking her head.   
"You're right, Hotaru-chan . . . damn--" Setsuna glared at her, "--I never   
even considered that. It all makes perfect sense now . . . "  
  
Suddenly Haruka wrenched the wheel to the right, going in the opposite   
direction of the Hikawa shrine.  
  
"Haruka!" Setsuna scolded her crossly. "What do you think you're doing?   
The shrine is the *other* way!"  
  
"I mustn't do it," Haruka spat angrily. "I can't make her mistake, Setsuna   
. . . and she most definitely made a mistake!"  
  
"What are you talking about?!" Setsuna cried. "Have you gone completely   
insane? You turn this car around RIGHT NOW, Tenoh Haruka, or I swear   
I'll--"  
  
"We're here," Hotaru said coolly from the back.  
  
Setsuna looked up. Before her was the beautiful 'mansion by the sea'   
Haruka and Michiru lived in, now dark and dim. The sky around it was cloudy   
and gray. All three could feel the evil emanating from the house.  
  
"What are we doing here?" Setsuna asked nervously. "What's going on?"  
  
"I can't just ignore what's happening to Michiru-chan just because I'm   
afraid of it," Haruka realized. "If I do, I'll end up like neko-chan and   
Mamoru-san. I have to face her."  
  
"Are you really sure that's a good idea?" Setsuna protested, panic causing   
her voice to waver. "You don't know what kinds of forcing are manipulating   
her."  
  
"Doesn't matter," Haruka gulped. "She'd do the same for me."  
  
Setsuna reached out to stop her, but a light tug on the cranberry skirt she   
wore stopped her. Hotaru shook her head at Setsuna, indicating what both   
knew: nothing would stop Haruka from doing this.  
  
"Fine," Setsuna gave in. "Do you want us to go in with you?"  
  
"You two should go on to the shrine," Haruka said. "There are other cars   
I can take."  
  
"Haruka," Setsuna groaned, "I don't have a license."  
  
"You're telling me that after a thousand years you never learned how to   
DRIVE?!" Haruka was indignant.  
  
"That's not the--"  
  
"Just drive carefully," Haruka instructed. "I'll see you guys later."  
  
Setsuna reluctantly stepped into the car and started the ignition. "At   
least henshin first," she warned sharply as the car started roaring away   
from the boyish senshi.  
  
"Uranus crystal power, make up!"  
  
Now she was alone.  
  
********  
  
"The infection has continued to spread," the doctor confirmed for the   
unhappy Tsukinos. "It has ceased to respond to any of the antibiotics we've   
given her." He continued on grimly, adding, "Usagi's body refuses to accept   
the new heart, and with her immune system gone, she has no defense against   
illness. Her lungs are nearly full of fluid, and we have detected lesions   
on the brain. She's had seizures several times in the past few days."  
  
Ikuko held her husband's hand, silent tears dripping down her cheeks.  
  
"I get the sense she stopped fighting a while back," the doctor finished.  
  
Kenji looked stricken.  
  
"There is nothing more we can do except help make her passing easier during   
the next two or three hours. I'm sorry."  
  
A wrenching cry was let forth into the night.  
  
********  
  
With slow, steady steps, Haruka approached Michiru, who was fully absorbed   
in her terrible music.  
  
"I wanted to say I'm sorry for not supporting you," Uranus said quietly.   
Michiru didn't even look up. "I should have understood how important this   
is to you. I mean . . . I still love you, Michiru-chan. I think we can   
work things out."  
  
The music continued come from the piano.  
  
Familiar music, Uranus suddenly realized, coming from the piano. Well, the   
tune was the same, but in her memory the music was different . . . soft,   
tinkly . . . kind of like a music box . . .  
  
. . . or a locket.  
  
Uranus gasped as she realized the song the locket had played was no longer   
the Moonlight Densetsu, but Michiru's twisted new rendition.  
  
"It's you," Uranus choked out, unable to tear her eyes away from the piano.  
  
Michiru turned around slowly, and Uranus gasped again, feeling the blood   
drain from her face. Michiru's clear azure eyes were now a dull shade of   
indigo, blackening before her eyes.  
  
"It's you," Uranus repeated mechanically, taking a step back. "That   
Requiem. I understand now! Michiru-chan, please baby, you have to stop   
writing. It's killing--"  
  
"Get out," Michiru rasped, voice laden with malevolence. "Get out,   
Uranus."  
  
"I can't," she protested pitifully. "I can't leave you like this. You   
have to stop." This must have been how Mamoru felt, Uranus realized in an   
odd moment of clarity. Helpless and utterly lost.  
  
With that, the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place.  
  
"Michi-chan--" Uranus sobbed, tears streaming down as she collapsed to the   
ground. "Oh, Gods, Michiru, my love, my life--"  
  
"GET OUT!!!" A frenzied burst of energy crashed into Uranus, flinging the   
door open and sending the woman out with it.  
  
For a moment, though, she thought she saw Michiru's eyes turn back to   
their usual azure, staring pleadingly at her. "Libera me," she whispered before   
reverting back to the twisted black-blue color. That Michiru laughed at   
Uranus's pain.  
  
"MICHIRU!" After crash-landing on the lawn, Uranus was too terrified to   
try to confront Michiru again. Shivering with cold and some unknown   
affliction, she stumbled away, too afraid to even go in the garage.  
  
********  
  
"Now that we have a clearer picture of Mamoru-san's motivations--"  
  
"It's the locket!" An exhausted Uranus collapsed onto the straw mat lying   
in the doorway of the Hikawa shrine's fire room. Four Inners and two Outers   
were sitting around said fire, finally exchanging knowledge. "The locket's   
doing everything!"  
  
"Calm down," Setsuna ordered, helping Makoto pick Uranus up and sit her   
down properly. "What happened?"  
  
Uranus took a deep breath. "Rei-chan," she gasped, "do you remember the   
song in the locket?"  
  
"Right!" Rei cried. "It was changed. Warped."  
  
"The song was from Michiru-chan's Requiem."  
  
For a moment, everyone was silent. "'The song you hold in your heart will   
be your death march,'" Hotaru whispered.  
  
"What do you mean?" Uranus turned wild eyes to her. "You said that the   
Wraith was in Usagi's heart."  
  
"I did say that."  
  
"Then what does it have to do with the song?" she yelled, grasping neither   
emotion nor sanity.  
  
"Haruka-papa," Hotaru said quietly, "I never said it was inside her chest.   
You misinterpreted."  
  
"Wait," Makoto cut in, "if it's not in Usagi-chan's heart then . . . "  
  
"The locket," Rei's eyes grew wide. "Remember? When I attacked, the   
Wraith was forcing energy into the locket, which must've transferred to   
Michiru-san, Mamoru-san and Usagi-chan. This thing has some sort of hold on   
them and it's using the locket to do its bidding."  
  
"But what does it want?" Minako protested. "Why would it go to such great   
lengths to execute this plan?"  
  
"Because it needed them," Hotaru spoke up. "It wanted to die, but It   
couldn't. So It needed someone to die for It."  
  
"Die? I don't understand," a frightened, wide-eyed Uranus stuttered.  
  
Ami fiddled with the computer she was holding. "I may have something,"   
she said slowly, looking into the fire.  
  
Six sets of eyes were instantly on her.  
  
"I broke the code this morning," she said quietly, "but I didn't get time   
to look over the information. There were still some basic security measures   
I had to bypass--nothing time couldn't fix. Then we got the call . . . and   
I had to crack the Boston Globe's archive . . . "  
  
"So you broke into the database?" Makoto asked anxiously.  
  
"I broke into the Silver Millennium's Criminal Files," Ami said flatly.   
"Our Wraith is an old, old friend of ours."  
  
"Why am I not getting a good feeling about this?" Minako groaned.  
  
"Oh, you can't feel the love in the room?" Rei said caustically. "Get on   
with it, Ami-chan."  
  
Ami took a deep breath. "The records match the Silver Millennium's File   
on a woman by the name of Natsuki Mayumi, Countess of Beryl," she read from the   
screen. "Lady Beryl, it seems, was an ordinary Earthly denizen before   
becoming the psychotic vessel of a hell-spawned demon-goddess."  
  
"Pleasant." Minako made a face.  
  
"Wait . . . are you taking about the Crazy Lady?" Uranus asked, leaning on   
Setsuna heavily.  
  
"Crazy Lady?"  
  
Setsuna blushed. "During one of the rare opportunities Uranus had to   
visit me during that time period, we, ah, came up with that code name for her."  
  
"Because she was insane," Uranus explained needlessly, staring vacantly   
into the distance.  
  
"Right." Setsuna shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "That too."  
  
"I beg to differ," Minako protested, raising an eyebrow. "My general   
impression of Beryl-sama was that she was only after Endymion. The sorts of   
things people get tangled up in for love . . . " Minako sighed and looked   
out the window, "before you know it you're gone. I mean, would Mamoru-san   
taken life if not for Usagi?"  
  
"Blondie's got a point, Uranus-san," Makoto chimed in. "We're still   
missing pieces. How did Beryl come back? I'm pretty certain that   
Usagi-chan sent her dooown."  
  
"Ah . . . not necessarily," Setsuna winced. "There are stories of   
emotions so fervent, they leave a 'mark' behind when they leave. A mono-focused   
consciousness. If I had expected that Beryl-sama would be left behind in   
such a way I would have warned you long before, but . . . " Setsuna gazed   
at the empty-eyed Uranus, "I guess even monsters love."  
  
"Exactly," Minako agreed forcefully, "but what is this thing doing?"  
  
"My best guess is it's using Michiru and the Requiem to extract revenge on   
Usagi," Setsuna replied. "This thing probably wants to rest. As long as   
Usagi is alive, it probably can't."  
  
"So this thing possessed Usagi-chan and Michiru-san," Makoto reiterated,   
"and now we have to figure out a way to release them?"  
  
"At least one of them," Rei corrected her. "If my hunch is correct, if we   
can remove the hold from one, it will weaken the monster. Usagi and Michiru   
have created a sort of symbiotic relationship. Whatever affects one will   
benefit or hurt the other equally."  
  
"Interesting," Uranus murmured.  
  
"What is?" Setsuna asked sharply.  
  
"It just sounds too easy, that's all."  
  
"That's because that's all there is to it," she said tersely. "Do you   
understand now?"  
  
"Of course," she whispered.  
  
"Then who should we save?" Setsuna queried. "We'll follow your lead."  
  
"What?" Uranus looked at her wildly. "Why me?"  
  
"Who, in your opinion, would be easiest to exorcise the demon from?"   
Setsuna didn't answer Uranus's second question.  
  
Uranus stilled. Her head was spinning, throwing excuses and information at   
her from every turn.  
  
Her love or her duty.  
  
"Uranus?"  
  
Duty.  
  
"Are you listening to me?"  
  
Love.  
  
"Uranus, do you have an opinion or not?"  
  
Duty.  
  
"Uranus?"  
  
Love.  
  
"Uranus, are you going to answer me or not?"  
  
*Libera me.*  
  
"Love," she mumbled.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
She snapped out of her reverie. "Michiru would be the easiest. Usagi's   
illness is driven by the music Michiru composes. We stop Michiru, we buy   
time."  
  
"We don't know that," Rei protested. "This thing is turning Michiru into   
another like it. It's far easier to expel a spirit from a body than it is a   
mind!"  
  
"I *said,*" Uranus ground through clenched teeth, "we will find Michiru."  
  
For a moment, no one moved. Uranus sighed. "Are we going or not?" she   
snipped harshly.  
  
Suddenly the senshi were in action, preparing . . . no.  
  
"Uranus-papa?" Hotaru innocently stared up at her, holding her henshin   
stick while the others transformed. "You're so white."  
  
Unsurprising but disturbing nonetheless. Uranus steadied herself on the   
sill. "You six meet me at the house," she called as she bolted out the   
door. "There's something I have to do first."  
  
Well, maybe the senshi hadn't realized it (Well, Saturn may have suspected   
something, but she had said nothing to countermand Haruka's stipulations),   
but Uranus had made the hardest decision of her life that night.  
  
Her Princess. Her Love. How could she abandon either?  
  
One was her reason to breathe, the other her reason to live. She never   
imagined it would come to this, that she would be forced to choose. Mamoru   
should have been there, protecting and caring for Usagi, so that she could   
take care of *her* love, or at least what was left of her.  
  
That was the *real* reason why she was climbing up the fire ladder that   
night, scaling the apartment complex at a ferocious rate. So that she   
wouldn't have to feel so bad for being selfish.  
  
Tonight there would be no fear.  
  
Tonight there would be no hesitation.  
  
Only action.  
  
Only suffering.  
  
And no one knew where it would take the senshi.  
  
*******  
  
Chiba Mamoru was tired.  
  
He was tired of being locked in his despair, tired of waiting for the last   
vestiges of his sanity and humanity to wing away with Usagi. Tired of   
waiting for the end.  
  
Long ago, before he had met Usagi, he had been 'gifted' a bottle by a   
cruel classmate, a bottle that Mamoru had saved for an occasion like this.   
Somehow, he had never shaken away his doubts and his fears, that he truly   
was a monster, that Usagi would someday realize this and leave him.  
  
The childproof seal cracked open.  
  
His love. His addiction, his most exquisite pleasure. Since the Harvard   
incident he had reveled, though terrified of himself all the while, in the   
thought of her, his, and only his, for all time. His obsession. His object   
of pure, shameless lust. And yet he wondered if it was not that she was   
his, but that he was hers. She could live without him, whereas he, he . . .  
  
He removed the little cotton ball from the top.  
  
It was his duty to do this, after all. He was her protector, and where she   
was going she would need all the protection she could get. Long ago he had   
promised himself that wherever she went, he would follow her. He had broken   
that promise too many times. Now was the time to live up to it.  
  
One, two, three, four . . . how many now?  
  
Taking a gulp of sake, he felt . . . happy. Warm. After all, she was   
going to die, and at least now he would be able to go with her. She would never   
be alone, and no one would ever hurt her again. Not as long as he followed   
her.  
  
The bottle dropped to the ground.  
  
He smiled in elation.  
  
***********  
  
When Uranus leapt into the shadowy apartment, she never expected to see   
Mamoru actually out of bed and sitting on the couch, playing dumbly with a   
rose in his hands. He showed no sign that he realized Haruka was there.  
  
"Mamoru-san."  
  
He finally looked up. "Yes, Uranus-san?" he asked, smiling at her.  
  
Uranus cocked her head in confusion. "Are you all right?"  
  
"As fine as I'll ever be."  
  
"That's nice, considering your beloved is dying alone in a blank white   
hospital room attached to about sixty machines."  
  
He stopped messing with the rose and looked down shamefully. Uranus took   
this as a sign she had affected him.  
  
"Shouldn't you be there with her?"  
  
Nothing at all.  
  
"Well, shouldn't you?"  
  
Nothing again.  
  
"SHOULDN'T you?!"  
  
"She told me she didn't want to see me again," he whispered in a tortured   
baritone. "She said to stay away."  
  
"And the one time you *actually* LISTEN to her..."  
  
Tears fell. "You don't understand," he muttered, trying to keep his voice   
controlled. He took a long draft of sake.  
  
"Make me, then."  
  
Mamoru turned vacant, aimless eyes in her direction, unable to focus on   
her properly. "Have you ever," he whispered hoarsely, inundated with emotion,   
"loved someone so much that it made your lungs cease to function? That   
merely touching your beloved's skin was so thrilling you thought the shock   
of it would kill you? That you were so desperate, so utterly worshipful of   
this other human being, so reliant upon them for your entire sense of self   
that the mere thought of losing that someone could make you psychically   
ill?"  
  
She hadn't thought about it until now, but something bubbled up from deep   
inside her and confirmed that she indeed felt these things for Michiru.  
  
"And have you ever felt that in order to protect that love and life, you   
would gladly destroy whole Universes for one small woman?"  
  
Now she realized.  
  
"It's attached to you too, isn't it?"  
  
"What?" He blinked uncertainly, trying to comprehend.  
  
"The demon . . . it's inside your heart too," Uranus whispered. "Of course   
it is. Usagi's heart is your heart, just as yours is hers. Two as one."  
  
"I don't . . . "  
  
"Mamoru-san," Uranus explained as if to a small child, "the demon wants   
you to kill yourself so it can further its hold on Usagi-chan. You *can't* do   
this, Mamoru-san. If you do, the Wraith will win."  
  
Mamoru stilled completely, staring into space.  
  
"But it's already too late, isn't it?" she cried softly. "Too late for   
you. You're dead. How could you help your love now? Well I charge you with   
this, Mamoru-san: how could you NOT?!"  
  
He turned, slowly, and Uranus bored her eyes into his. The harsh light   
started to ebb, thankfully; now maybe she could reason with him.  
  
"How can you sit here and let her slip away?" she asked in disbelief.   
"How? Maybe you've patted yourself on the back for your courage,   
Mamoru-san, but in the end you are nothing but a coward! Love is not about   
wasting away! It's about fighting, about being willing to suffer, about   
saying the words AND THEN LIVING UP TO THEM!!!" she was screaming, her lungs   
burning as she gulped in oxygen.  
  
"And it's SCARY!" she yelled, continuing when her breath returned. "It's   
terrifying to know that someone has that much power of you, that they can   
cause you so much pain, but it's worth it, Mamoru-san, oh God, it's worth it   
a thousand times over. Love is all we have to hold onto. It's about being   
willing to burn so for a couple moments we're happy! Because you know what   
we are doing in those few moments? LIVING. We're ALIVE. I dare you to say   
that surrounding yourself with books or pills or even racecars could make us   
alive."  
  
Uranus took in a deep, shuddering breath. The words, locked inside her   
and ignored for so long, suddenly made perfect sense to her. Her spinning world   
started to slow, and she found something to hold onto, something worth   
fighting for again. The love of the weak was formidable. The love of the   
strong was invincible.  
  
It wasn't selfish; it was self-preservation. So went the way of the world.  
  
"I hope you think about what I said," she warned sharply. "Now if you'll   
excuse me, my lover has been possessed by a screaming Wraith and unlike you,   
I actually have some cajones."  
  
And then she was gone.  
  
The alcohol and the pills were making him sleepy, but somehow Uranus's   
words had pierced his hide. He was warm, and not just from the sake. For   
the first time in a long while, he felt . . . strong. In control. He   
straightened and pulled out a rose.  
  
As Tuxedo Kamen, the pills' effect on his system slowed. Now he had   
enough time to get to the hospital and try to do something. What that was, he   
didn't know, but he sensed the battle had not yet begun.  
  
For better or for worse, he would fight the fight.  
  
********  
  
"What took you so long?" Pluto asked, staring at the swirling clouds above.  
  
"Unfinished business."  
  
"I can't imagine what could be so important right now," Jupiter remarked,   
blowing away a stray hair.  
  
"I had to give a little pep talk."  
  
Saturn broke into a wide smile.  
  
"Whatever." Mercury was typing furiously into her system. "We need to   
secure the area," she announced. "The Inners and I can use our Planet power   
to do that. Are you three ready?"  
  
"Check."  
  
"Check."  
  
"What, no Wraith-bashing for us?"  
  
"Jupiter," Mercury warned, "time is of the essence."  
  
"What will we do?" Uranus asked hesitantly, clenching a fist.  
  
"You three will go inside."  
  
********  
  
Gods, how tiny and fragile she seemed attached to those damned machines!  
  
Tuxedo Kamen searched around warily, looking for Usagi's family or anyone   
else in the way. By an odd coincidence, there were none. He did not know   
they were currently being informed that their daughter would take her last   
breath within a few hours.  
  
He knew that anyways. Even with the machine her struggle to breathe was   
so demanding there was no way a body that weak could take such punishment for   
long. A few spare tears dropped from his eyes. He approached, quietly   
brushing the bangs out of her half-glazed eyes.  
  
"Usa-ko," he whispered gently, almost reverently. "If I had it all to do   
over again I would do so many things differently . . . but I can't. I   
*can't,* Usa-ko. All I can ask now is that you give me the chance to   
change. Don't leave me here with my regrets." His tears sloshed onto her   
marble face.  
  
As he let out a choked sob, his eyes focused upon the glittering object on   
the countertop. The locket.  
  
As if possessed, his hand reached out to touch the gleaming black stone as   
it played its haunting song.  
  
********  
  
She led.  
  
Saturn and Pluto flanked her, good backup if it should come to that. Was   
this really her home? It looked so black, so grim. Like a tier of Hell   
rather than a seaside cottage.  
  
At its nexus, hovering in the air, was and emaciated, shadowy form with   
cobwebs of aqua trailing down her back. The eyes were nearly white and   
glassy, frightening in their inhumanity. She swirled among intense energy, lost   
in the ecstasy as the Wraith's power composed for her.  
  
Then a burst shot forth. Electric heat and light surrounded Uranus but   
somehow she managed to remain standing. Looking back painfully, she saw her   
comrades, twin victims, slumped against the wall. Glaive and Orb alike   
were nowhere to be found.  
  
But she had always known this was her battle. How kind of the Wraith to   
acknowledge that.  
  
She wiped away a bead of sweat and looked up.  
  
Michiru locked eyes with her and curled up her lips.  
  
********  
  
Tuxedo Kamen felt black power swirl and electrify around him, sucking him   
into the dark intrigue of the locket. Unholy power surged through but he   
held on, desperate to save Usagi yet. There was time, he kept reminding   
himself. Precious time that could not be wasted on fainting.  
  
When he opened his eyes the area was black save a dim light in the   
distance. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he made out a stone staircase. The   
dim light was getting stronger and approaching from another direction.   
Slowly he realized it was a torch, and someone was holding it.  
  
Once the figure grew near, he gasped in recognition. She, on the other   
hand, simply smiled and opened her mouth.  
  
********  
  
"I've been waiting for you."  
  
******** 


	7. Lux Aeterna

"Well I wish I could kill you  
Savor the sight  
Get into my car   
Drive into the night  
Then lie as I scream to the Heavens above  
That I was the last one  
You've ever loved"  
  
--Better than Ezra, "Porcelain"  
  
  
  
Requiem for a Soldier  
Part VI: Lux Aeterna  
Author: Ai  
E-mail: tennyo@attbi.com  
  
--Oh but that you could see above!  
  
--See what? Nothing but stars and darkness.  
  
--Little one, do you not see how each of those stars shines solely for   
you? That each one stretches across inconceivable expanses to bring   
you warmth and pleasure, to receive the most treasured joy of caressing   
your skin?  
  
--It's rough skin, cracked and dry.  
  
--Let the stars shine over it.  
  
--I will not. They will not touch me.  
  
--I see little one. So you have made a decision?  
  
--What decision? I just don't want their pretentious light on my face.  
  
--You have been given a gift from Above.  
  
--Then I spit on Above.  
  
--How far you've fallen! Were you always like this, or did your love   
bring this change about you?  
  
--What do you mean?  
  
--Once you reveled in the soft delights of angels and demigods. Have   
you traded it away for carnal lust?  
  
--Not lust. Love. There's a difference.  
  
--There isn't one in Hell.  
  
--You lie.  
  
--Do I?  
  
--I don't know anymore.  
  
--Do you really love him so?  
  
--With every breath of my being.  
  
--Then why do you shun him, dearest child of Heaven?  
  
--He is a killer. There is blood on his hands. I must not let him   
sully me.  
  
--The only blood on his hands is what he took on your behalf. Sure   
your hands are clean, but your soul is red and flows like wine.  
  
--No! That is a lie!  
  
--Is it!  
  
--I am not unclean!  
  
--Did you want him to do it?  
  
--What?  
  
--To choke the life out of that child? Did it give you pleasure? Were   
you aroused by his power and your power over him?  
  
--Well . . .  
  
--Do you want him now, even after all the sins he has committed in your   
name? Lustful creature. Shameful. Dirty. You chase the stars away.  
  
--Please! I never meant it to come to this!  
  
--He can yet be spared.  
  
--How? I'll do anything necessary!  
  
--ANYTHING?!  
  
--Of course! I owe him that. He is my love and my life. What I do   
for him I do for myself.  
  
--Are you willing to make the ultimate sacrifice?  
  
--To die?  
  
--Fool. You know little of suffering. No, we speak of far more   
heinous acts today. Walk on coals. Slit a throat. Burn for eternity.  
  
--What?  
  
--To save your love, you must take the plunge.  
  
--Plunge?  
  
--Get your hands dirty?  
  
--Burn?  
  
--To save him you too must fall. You must commit the ultimate   
atrocity. Are you prepared to do that?  
  
--The ULTIMATE atrocity?  
  
--Well?  
  
--Now?  
  
--Now or never, flight or fight.  
  
--There isn't any more time, is there?  
  
--No, there isn't.  
  
--And you can't help me?  
  
--No one can, little one. To save him is to lose yourself. Before you   
were afraid. Look at the heartache you caused! You will take your   
snowy angel wings and break them off your back. You will take up the   
sword. Blood will run. There is nothing but action, and all action is   
suffering.  
  
--Because he did it for me . . . because he deserves that kind of love.  
  
--The question is: will you give it to him?  
  
--Maybe the question should be: will he want it afterwards?  
  
--Only you and he can answer that. Little one, for whom the stars   
shine, make your choice and go on. This is ground zero. Choose   
wisely; there will be no returning here and no regrets.  
  
********  
  
"Rei?"  
  
Sure enough, the smooth raven tresses and rich violet eyes (which   
seemed oddly cold today) shined in the dim firelight. Dressed in her   
traditional Priestess robes, Mamoru noticed her only ornamentation was   
a large, intricate brass key hanging from her neck.  
  
"Hello, Endymion-sama." She bowed but kept the torch high.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he blurted out. He suddenly noticed he was   
now wearing the garb of the Earth Prince. The armor clacked as he   
stepped forward.  
  
"Are you surprised to see me here, my lord?" she murmured. "Think   
carefully about where we are."  
  
He stroked his chin. "I never realized."  
  
"Most people don't think about it this way," she admitted.  
  
"I never imagined you would be the one wandering around Usa-ko's   
heart."  
  
"Why not?" she shrugged. "I am, after all, the one she keeps closest   
to it--after you, of course, but then again, you are here, ne? Had you   
not been one Usagi-chan loves so dearly, you never would've come this   
far into her heart."  
  
"Why are you here?" he asked suddenly, growing suspicious.  
  
She smiled knowingly. "I am to lead you to the deepest part. Come."   
Beckoning, she turned and walked down the stairwell. Mamoru followed   
unthinkingly.  
  
********  
  
"Michiru," Uranus whispered, genuinely horrified. She reached out a   
pathetic hand. Suddenly her brave talk to Mamoru was fleeing.  
  
The creature tangled in the net of power screamed like a banshee. "You   
are too late, weakling!" a raspy, detached voice called out. "There is   
no Michiru here. Michiru has ceased to exist."  
  
Tears fell from her eyes. "Michiru," Uranus whispered. "I'm sorry, I   
really am."  
  
"Too late!" the creature shrieked again. "No more chances. No   
regrets!"  
  
"Michiru . . . "  
  
"Too late! Too late!"  
  
Uranus looked desperately at Michiru. "Please," she begged softly,   
dropping to her knees. "I-I need you, love. It's so hard . . . I'm so   
tired, I can't even think straight. All I know is that I want you   
back." She sighed heavily, the weight of her words seeping into her.  
  
To her surprise, little tendrils of power curled out and wiped at her   
cheeks. "Poor child," the blank voice rasped, "sleep now. There will   
be no pain that way."  
  
And Uranus felt her eyes begin to close . . .  
  
********  
  
If this really was Usagi's heart, Mamoru reflected darkly, then Usagi   
was a far different person than he believed her to be. The dark,   
Spartan conditions were something he expected in the recessed chambers   
of his own innards.  
  
"Most of the heart does not look like this," Rei said, as if reading   
his mind. "Just the deepest chambers. That's why I'm here to lead   
you. Otherwise you could be lost forever."  
  
"Rei," he asked suddenly, "did you ever love me?"  
  
Why did he think he would receive an honest answer here? This place   
was made up of Usagi, after all. Even this Rei was the image she gave   
Usagi, as deeply as she had penetrated.  
  
Rei, surprisingly, applied herself to the question, bowing her dark   
head for a while. "I made myself believe it so," she answered   
carefully. "And for a long time I held onto that. But no, deep inside   
I knew you were always destined for Usagi-chan, no matter how hard you   
tried to deny it. Not much gets past me." He could feel her smile in   
the darkness.  
  
They walked a while longer until Mamoru sensed Rei stop. She turned,   
removed the key from her neck, and handed it to him.  
  
"We're here," she murmured. "I can go no further."  
  
He turned to her, staring into sad, wistful depths. "Why is that?"  
  
"You are the only one allowed to go on. You'd better draw your sword   
now, my Lord."  
  
Thin, fair arms squeezed him abruptly. "Please don't lose," she begged   
in his ear. Then she--and the key in his hand--disappeared.  
  
He sensed the atmosphere change, grow . . . round. Like an arena,   
illuminated by darkness rather than light.  
  
Mamoru gulped, unsheathed his sword, which began to glow with a slight   
golden tinge, and stepped forward.  
  
"Good day, Endymion."  
  
And there She stood.  
  
"Welcome to your gravesite."  
  
********  
  
It was so warm here. Uranus floated in an endless sea of nothingness,   
simply drifting mindlessly through. No pain, no fear, no doubt. Just   
warm. And she could feel a familiar essence, something gentle, like   
someone once well known . . .  
  
Like love.  
  
She sighed happily and closed her eyes, letting the tide pull her down.   
Uranus didn't even notice her transformation undo.  
  
"Do you like this?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Do you wish to stay this way forever, Sailoruranus?"  
  
Who was Sailoruranus? Her memories had washed away with the tide, but   
she didn't care. All there was was the delicious warmth, bringing her   
down to the murky depths.  
  
But such easily given warmth came at a price, though Uranus could not   
acknowledge that in her hazy state. Slowly, bit by bit, an icy hand   
reached forward, sentencing her to the same bleak eternity her lover   
would suffer.  
  
********  
  
Mamoru raised his sword and watched as the Wraith laughed. "You will   
not leave this place," She called lazily. "How fitting that you die   
here."  
  
He took a ferocious, desperate swing, forgetting the previous life's   
careful training and instruction. The Wraith dodged easily, laughing   
haughtily all the while. Again, he swung blindly, his eyes and head   
burning. He was tired, and felt as if were being dragged into an ocean   
of warmth.  
  
The Wraith wrapped itself around his body, carefully twisting and   
molding around every module of him.  
  
"Does this feel familiar?"  
  
The sleepiness that claimed him whenever his basest impulses were about   
to explode set in.  
  
"Is it warm?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Are you happy?"  
  
The sword clattered.  
  
"You will be with your love soon."  
  
********  
  
"You will be with your love soon."  
  
The words echoed across time and space. Hazily, as if awakening from a   
dream, she began to become conscious of a body, some entity that *was*   
her. Who was she? What was she doing here?  
  
"Sleep now."  
  
But the Wraith had undone its own work. At the word 'love,' her victim   
had perked up, frantically trying to get her mind around a concept,   
something tangible, something very, very important that she had   
forgotten.  
  
"Will you forsake this?"  
  
What else was there but this?  
  
Surely something, a tiny corner of her being cried. There is something   
better.  
  
And then it hit her.  
  
*Libera me.*  
  
"Michiru."  
  
********  
  
"Usa-ko."  
  
Mamoru wrenched his eyes open and reached a trembling hand down, trying   
to grab his sword.  
  
The Wraith was still trying to seduce him with honeyed promises of   
warmth and love. The only warmth, Mamoru now suspected, was that which   
lay in the 'honeyed' pits of Hell. With a massive effort, he wrenched   
his arm away and took back his sword.  
  
"Fool!" it hissed hoarsely. "Eternity near belonged to you. It was a   
gift!"  
  
"I'm not buying," he sneered as he set himself to the task of removing   
himself from the Wraith's unholy grip.  
  
********  
  
Oh Lord in Heaven, how could she have forgotten? Memory rushed back   
into her, consuming her with guilt and shame, but she really had no   
time to ponder either emotion.  
  
She had lost time, yes, but the demon had not succeeded and WOULD not   
if she had anything to do with it.  
  
Though her hands quivered, she concentrated, clenching the two   
appendages into little balls as she cut through the thick wall of black   
energy surrounding her. No wonder it was so seductive. Energy that   
pure, no matter the color, was invigorating.  
  
"Uranus . . . crystal . . . power . . . "  
  
Little glimmers of power started to stream through her nerve endings,   
coming to a nexus in her chest. She took a deep breath and tried   
again.  
  
"Uranus crystal power . . . "  
  
"Silly," She slithered, laughing darkly, "you cannot escape me! I am   
the blood that flows in your veins!"  
  
"We'll see," Uranus gritted through clenched teeth. With a scowl, she   
summoned up her final current and knew if she didn't strike now, the   
Wraith would gain strength over her.  
  
"URANUS CRYSTAL POWER!!!"  
  
Sailoruranus stepped through the smoke and locked eyes directly with   
her possessed lover.  
  
********  
  
There was a clatter.  
  
The Wraith had temporarily weakened, giving him the advantage. He   
snatched up his sword and lashed out.  
  
Blood flowed freely from the shadow, an oily black substance that   
sizzled into the atmosphere moments after touching the ground.  
  
The arena, he noticed, was perfectly circular. No corners to back   
anyone into, no helpful hints, nothing to guide him. It vaguely   
occurred to him that perhaps, just as Usagi had illuminated his inner   
being, perhaps he was expected to reciprocate somehow?  
  
Never mind that. The Wraith charged, holding a long, thin stream of   
smoke that looked sharp and very dangerous. He raised his weapon, and   
before he knew it, all he heard was the clatter of swords and a distant   
echo from a damned soul.  
  
********  
  
Her aqua cobwebs and blank eyes were deathly still, frightening Uranus   
not a little. Yet she not only held her ground; she advanced slowly in   
the process. How hard it was! But she remembered Michiru's eyes only   
earlier that night, their normal deep navy, desperate and woeful.  
  
*Libera Me.*  
  
Free me.  
  
At least that's what she thought it meant.  
  
The not-Michiru smiled thinly. "The song continues," She murmured.  
  
"It stops here."  
  
"When it stops, your Princess will take her last breath. Aren't you   
worried about her?"  
  
"The only thing I'm worried about," Uranus gritted as she summoned her   
sword, "is making sure Michiru warms my bed tonight.  
  
"Space sword blaster!"  
  
********  
  
"Ha!" She screamed aloud, crying with delight.  
  
Mamoru instinctually clutched his searing arm, sending his sword   
flying. The Wraith again yelled out with joyous triumph. She struck,   
narrowly missing Mamoru's side.  
  
He, meanwhile, tried to drag himself where his sword laid. His legs   
ached from too many fast maneuvers, and he felt his energy be sucked   
away.  
  
But he would not fail. He couldn't.  
  
********  
  
When the smoke cleared, the demon Michiru stood, lips curled into a   
bloodless smile.  
  
"My turn," she rasped. Closing Her terrible eyes, She summoned a ball   
of blue energy and let it go, sending Uranus back to the wall.  
  
While her head and back tried to recover from the shock, Uranus noticed   
Pluto stir.  
  
"Haru . . . ka?" Pluto mumbled.  
  
"Setsuna-san?" Uranus cried. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Her hand," she thought she heard Pluto say.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
The air was turning a cloudy shade of burnt orange. Though the haze   
made it hard to see anything but the contrasting cobwebs of teal,   
Uranus squinted and reached out, stroking Pluto's face.  
  
"Take her hand," Pluto said through labored breaths, "and lead her   
away." Pluto's eyes began to close.  
  
Desperate for the elder senshi's advice, Uranus slapped Pluto's cheek.   
"Stay awake!" she snarled furiously, glaring at the blank magenta eyes.  
  
The senshi suddenly snapped up and looked Uranus straight in the eye.   
She curled her lips into a weak smile. "I'll see you again . . . I   
swear I will."  
  
Pluto's head dropped slightly. Uranus felt her pulse grow faint, but   
she had no time to attend to the senshi.  
  
"Are you hiding from me over there, Uranus?" the demon Michiru called.  
  
  
She was horrified at what she saw when she turned. Michiru's skin was   
gray and seemed to fall off her bones, cracked and dying. The woman   
was nonexistent, and the Wraith was all that remained.  
  
Uranus wept.  
  
Then she screwed up her courage and reached out for Michiru.  
  
********  
  
"Do you enjoy this?" the Wraith purred menacingly as the smoky hands   
wrapped around Mamoru's neck.  
  
So this was what it felt like. In another moment, he would die.  
  
"Shall I snap your neck as you did mine?"  
  
He stilled. "What?" he choked.  
  
"I wanted her body, one way or another. Thanks to you I had to do it   
the hard way," the Wraith snickered.  
  
And then it hit him. "It was you," he said, staring at the Wraith.   
"You were the boy in the park. But . . . "  
  
Did the fact it had not been a real human he had killed negate his   
culpability? The thought echoed through his mind, but it meant nothing   
now. He was still here; it would change nothing.  
  
"But I thank you, Endymion. This is so much more--"  
  
That was it. With all his strength, the power of the Golden Crystal   
imploded inside him and the Wraith fled into the atmosphere. Mamoru   
stood, proud, strong, and once again took his sword up.  
  
"No more games."  
  
********  
  
The second time she was swept in by the Wraith, her eyes were open.   
The sea was cold and harsh, but she was still Ten'oh Haruka,   
Sailoruranus, and planned to keep it that way. Furious swipes of her   
arms actually got her somewhere.  
  
She had a mission. She had a love. No floating. She had to be   
definitive, to take a stand.  
  
"MICHIRU!!!" The scream ripped from her almost involuntarily, taking   
on its own will as it searched out its ladylove.  
  
It was almost inaudible, but Uranus was so desperate to hear she caught   
it.  
  
"Ha-ru-ka?"  
  
********  
  
The arena was brighter. He was standing on a marble floor, white   
with streaks of gold and silver--the real thing? Maybe.  
  
Above him, a blood-red sun shone, casting an eerie red light on   
the ring. He sensed his own thirst for blood, though black and not red   
this time, that reddened the sky so.  
  
This place reflected him. All he had to do was hope, and hunger, and   
it would give him all he needed.  
  
"Come out, Demon!" he taunted. "I'm not finished with you!"  
  
********  
  
"MICHIRU!!!"  
  
"Haruka! Oh, Gods, help me!"  
  
Uranus frantically swam towards the sound, praying her strength would   
hold out. Every once and a while she stopped and yelled out again,   
then redirected appropriately, but restarting was so torturous she had   
to cut down the number of times she did it.  
  
Finally, a hazy red tower blazed in the distance. The sky and air were   
smoky, probably because of it. Fire. Death by fire. Uranus shook the   
thought off abruptly.  
  
But the tower grew closer, and brighter, centered on a little island.   
Land. Uranus sighed in relief and swam faster.  
  
Before she knew it she had washed onto the shores, desperately gasping   
for air. Her limbs burned; how could she possibly move another step?  
  
Because she had to, that was how. Uranus forced herself up, and what   
she beheld was the image so carefully burned into her retina, the one   
that had haunted her days and tormented her nights.  
  
Michiru screamed as the fire slowly devoured her.  
  
********  
  
For the first time, Mamoru realized that this could be a fair fight   
yet.  
  
Once he realized he controlled the domain, he had applied himself to   
the task of fighting off his enemy, who seemed weaker as he used his   
power to seep into the shadowy armor around Her.  
  
He could not lose. He WOULD not.  
  
But he was wearing. The Wraith, physically, had a lot farther to fall   
than he. Maybe he controlled everything else, but Mamoru was still at   
his body's mercy. The drugs, combined with the intense physical   
activity of trying to kill something without a body and using the   
Golden Crystal, was pulling him down.  
  
And no matter how he felt about it, sooner or later his body would win.  
  
********  
  
"Haruka," the firestorm called, "save me!"  
  
"Space sword blaster!"  
  
Hoping the wind-based attack would calm the flames, she let it fly,   
only to realize the fires burned even higher now.  
  
"More," the Wraith begged from deep within the fire. "More energy!"  
  
There was almost no power left in her, Uranus realized grimly. Not   
that it mattered. Her thin reserves would have to be enough.  
  
Michiru reached out for her, her face contorting in tormented agony.   
Uranus grabbed for it and focused.  
  
"Uranus . . . crystal . . . power . . . "  
  
********  
  
That's when it hit him.  
  
If he controlled the Wraith's power, couldn't he control its form as   
well?  
  
With a body, it would be easy to kill. Summoning the last of his   
power, Mamoru plunged his sword into the Wraith's vicinity and   
concentrated.  
  
Vast amounts of golden energy surged out of him and into the Wraith.   
She cried out at the unbearable torture, but sure enough, something   
began to crystallize.  
  
A woman, he realized in amazement. Young, even pretty. He noticed a   
waterfall of wavy raven hair grow and a frail, tiny form. She seemed   
almost familiar.  
  
She cried out, and he saw tears drop into the ground. "Oh my lord,"   
she sobbed to him, "what have I done, my Prince? What have I done?"  
  
The terrified girl stood up, gazed at him for a moment from watery   
blue-violet eyes, bowed her head, hiding the trembling lip and cheek,   
and clasped her hands.  
  
"I beg of you, my lord, kill me."  
  
Beryl.  
  
********  
  
The power surged again and again, ferociously battering at the wall of   
defense the Wraith had constructed.  
  
--Michiru.  
  
--Haruka-chan?  
  
--It's all right, Michiru. I'm here now.  
  
--I'm so sorry, Haruka-chan. I love you.  
  
--Don't! Don't tell me goodbye. I WILL save you.  
  
--I'm so lost . . .  
  
--Love, no matter how far you wander, I will find you.  
  
--Really?  
  
--Wouldn't you do the same for me?  
  
Then no more. Haruka felt her connection with Michiru break. Panting   
heavily, she thrust her power onto the 'wall' one last time, but it   
would not break. She sighed and felt herself 'slump' against it. How   
would she save Michiru now?   
  
********  
  
"Lady Beryl?"  
  
"This is my fault, Endymion-sama," she cried quietly, her voice   
quivering heavily. "I let my love for you become corrupted. I have   
brought great suffering. For this you must kill me. If you don't act   
quickly, your Princess will die."  
  
She would sacrifice herself for them? For the first time new memories   
of Beryl flowed through his mind: memories of a gentler girl, a girl   
too naive to understand the desperate love she held in her heart.  
  
His sword rose. What a pity. He must save Usagi.  
  
Must he this way?  
  
The question rose in his mind as his sword had. Now he lowered his   
arms.  
  
What *would* Usagi want? She once said she would rather die than take   
an innocent life. She believed in the good of everyone. If he killed   
this poor girl, he would be the killer Usagi hated so. He would be the   
killer HE hated so.  
  
There must be another way. Maybe it wasn't the ginzuishou, but he   
swore to release this wretched girl--and his love--from the threat of   
Wraith without bloodshed, unless it was to be his own.  
  
He summoned the crystal to his hands while Beryl watched in wide-eyed   
wonder. Closing his eyes, he gave the last of his energy and prayed   
for pity.  
  
Golden light exploded, consuming his entirety in a massive rage of   
fantastic and terrible sensation.  
  
A soft cry somehow found its way into his consciousness, though . . .  
  
Then he knew nothing.  
  
********  
  
Just as Uranus was about to despair, something caught her eye.  
  
Gold. Where was it coming from?  
  
She didn't know, but suddenly golden light burst from all around her,   
smashing the wall to smithereens. Everything burst; a colossal   
cacophony of light and sound overloaded her senses until she could bear   
no more.  
  
Uranus finally opened her eyes again. She was back in her living room,   
and Michiru lay on the floor, naked and broken. Her eyes were shut and   
she was bleeding in a number of areas, but she looked peaceful, like an   
angel that had just survived a great battle of a war in Heaven.  
  
"Love?"  
  
Michiru cracked her eyelids. "Haruka?" she squeaked, her voice weak as   
a kitten's.  
  
"Aisuru," Uranus whispered, picking up Michiru. Her poor, dear lover   
wept softly, cradled in her arms. Uranus held her close, whispering   
sweet words in the aqua tresses.  
  
"Haruka . . . I was so lost, so scared . . . "  
  
"Hush love," Uranus soothed, rubbing her cheek against Michiru's, "it's   
all right now. The battle's over."  
  
The room was frighteningly normal inside, save for the dazed-looking   
Pluto and still-unconscious Saturn. But she wasn't paying much   
attention to these two. The war was not yet won.  
  
Immediately the Inners streamed in, having sensed the lifting of the   
malevolent presence. Jupiter eyed the area, stunned.  
  
"Is everyone all right?" Mercury called from behind Jupiter.  
  
"Not quite," Uranus replied, gesturing to the fallen Outers.  
  
Mercury started fiddling with the system while Venus and Mars rushed to   
Pluto. Jupiter lifted up Hotaru, cradling her gently.  
  
Mars and Venus were staring at Pluto. They exchanged glances. Mercury   
stepped forward, carefully examining the fallen senshi.  
  
All three turned white, but Haruka was too focused on Michiru to   
notice.  
  
For her part, Mercury reached a trembling hand out to find Pluto's   
pulse.  
  
"Is she all right?" Michiru's voice was so weak Haruka barely heard   
her, yet all three senshi jumped at the sound.  
  
Venus swallowed and turned back. "We'll deal with her," she said   
stiffly. "You need to save the Princess, Uranus-san."  
  
"Right," Uranus nodded. "Bring them along. We have one last stop to   
make."  
  
Uranus saw the deep circles under the girls' eyes. Holding down the   
fort like that must've been exhausting for them. "Where are we going?"   
Jupiter asked, but her gaze was on her three friends.  
  
"The hospital." Michiru was still sobbing in her arms as she ran.  
  
But the three Inners stayed. Mars stared mournfully at Pluto. "I   
don't know what to say, minna-chan."  
  
"She knew the consequences of donning that uniform better than any of   
us did," Venus said in an unnaturally strong voice. Moving forward,   
she closed Setsuna's glassy eyes.  
  
"Rei-chan?" Venus whispered in a little half-voice.  
  
"Yes, Mina-chan?"  
  
"Was this what they meant when they say people die for love?"  
  
********  
  
When the fantastic spectacle calmed and all grew dark, he forced   
himself to open his eyes.  
  
The air smelled . . . metallic . . . and yet organic at the same time.  
  
Blood. Even in his half-cataleptic state he could recognize the sickly   
smell of life flowing away.  
  
Was it his own? He didn't know. Everything was hazy and dull, but   
somehow he forced his eyes open.  
  
It wasn't, though. Beryl laid on the ground, soaked in blood, eyes   
glassy and dull. She was dead. From the looks of it, she'd taken a   
sword to the gut. The blood gushed forth, painting the floor with its   
cold red sheen. He closed his eyes, fighting a wave of nausea. It   
wasn't hard; the drugs in his system were beckoning him and he   
desperately wanted to follow now.  
  
Then he felt it. Warmth, fingers on his face. Smeared liquid. Soft   
lips on his own. He groaned in pleasure and agony.  
  
"Open your eyes."  
  
He obeyed, and just as his mind shuddered into nothingness, he saw   
Usagi, sword in hand, coated in blood and with the biggest smile on her   
face.  
  
******** 


	8. Libera Me

Uranus clutched the weeping Michiru fiercely to her breast, being   
careful not to jostle her fragile love as she ran. Jupiter, carrying   
Saturn, and Mercury, huffing all the way, were not far behind. Mars   
and Venus were farther back, helping Pluto along, she assumed.  
  
They had saved Michiru, right? Surely now Usagi could be saved . . .   
surely they would win. The bad guys would lose. The good guys would   
win.  
  
By some strange twist of fate, the waiting room and halls were   
pitifully empty in the wing where Usagi had been sent to die. The   
senshi scrambled through the halls, desperately trying to get to their   
Princess before it was too late.  
  
When Uranus reached her room, she screeched to a halt, sliding through   
on the slick tile. Michiru weakly lifted her head, her blue eyes wide   
and trembling as they both stared helplessly.  
  
Usagi was sitting up and had detached most of the machines from   
herself, beaming as she ran blood-soaked hands through a still Mamoru's   
hair and tears ran down her cheeks.  
  
And now it crossed Uranus's mind that this time the good guys *hadn't*   
won-  
  
Because this time she wasn't sure if there had ever been one at all.  
  
  
Requiem for a Soldier  
Part VII: Libera Me  
Author: Ai  
E-mail: tennyo@attbi.com  
  
  
*Two weeks later . . .*  
  
"How old were you here?"  
  
"This was my tenth birthday. She baked the cake for me," Michiru said   
softly, screwing up her face. "It tasted awful. She always was a   
terrible cook."  
  
Usagi laughed, a sound like tinkling bells.  
  
Michiru, in response, smiled at the sound they had all once feared   
would never be heard again.  
  
"You look like her," Usagi commented, stroking Michiru's image.  
  
Kaioh Emi reminded Usagi of a mermaid, with dishwater-blonde hair, an   
elfin face, and seaweed-green eyes. She looked like an artist:   
sensitive and delicate. And while Michiru did resemble Emi, Michiru   
was a soldier first and foremost. The cool, quiet strength that   
Michiru always carried with her was sorely lacking in Emi, even a two-  
dimensional one; she was a strangely frail woman.  
  
"I know she looks weak," Michiru murmured, reading Usagi's mind, "but   
she wasn't. She was the second-strongest woman I've ever known."   
Haruka would always be first and foremost in that arena, Michiru   
reflected.  
  
But even the strong could fall, Usagi recalled darkly. She changed the   
subject. "She was a musician?"  
  
"A cellist," Michiru replied. "She was so amazing . . . I was so   
worried I'd end up in her shadow that I decided to pursue the violin.   
But she loved to compose more than anything." The aqua-haired woman   
sighed, looking wan. "She was proud of those notes, sparse as they   
were. That reminds me," she said suddenly. Digging in her purse, she   
pulled out the Star Locket. "I may have, ah, tinkered," she admitted.   
"But not as you might think."  
  
Usagi stared at her. "Why do you have this? Haruka-san gave it back   
to me."  
  
"I wanted to listen to it one last time," Michiru admitted. "Otherwise   
it would've bothered me for forever. I'm still going to write that   
Requiem, you know."  
  
"With your mother's music?" Usagi asked softly.  
  
"No," Michiru replied. "Entirely my own. Whatever else needs   
exorcising, her music must be laid to rest."  
  
"I see," Usagi said carefully. "How did she die?"  
  
Michiru gazed beyond Usagi. "That, Usagi-chan, is a story for another   
day."  
  
Usagi was silent as Michiru flipped through three more the pages of the   
photo album, watching Michiru more carefully than the pictures.  
  
"I can only hope," Michiru said quietly, "that someday these pictures   
will cease to hurt me. Then I'll tell you everything."  
  
"Is that so?" Haruka had clearly been standing there for a while. She   
finally approached and glanced over the page. "I didn't know you had   
these," she said, deliberately keeping her tone flat.  
  
Michiru had the grace to blush. "I couldn't throw these out," she   
whispered, looking straight at her lover. "She's a part of me, aisuru,   
and these and her music are all I have left of her. It'd be like   
tearing off my right arm."  
  
Haruka silently pulled out her wallet and opened it. Quivering hands   
fumbled within, eventually plucking out a small stack of photos.  
  
"You're not the only one who couldn't forget the skeletons in her   
closet." She tossed the photos onto Usagi's lap. "I'm going to get a   
drink."  
  
Michiru took up her photos and followed Haruka.  
  
Usagi stared, watching them go. Haruka and Michiru couldn't quite   
bridge the emotional gap they had deliberately created unless they   
broke down and accepted that the past, painful as it may be, must be   
laid to rest.  
  
But their problems only took up a small part of Usagi's consciousness.   
Today was the day she would be released from the hospital. The doctors   
had been so stunned by her miraculous recovery that, despite her   
perfect health, they'd insisted on keeping her longer for observation.  
  
Mamoru had been released the week before. Poor love, he had already   
been admitted for severe exhaustion and several injuries he'd sustained   
during the battle with the Wraith; the doctors soon discovered he had   
also overdosed on painkillers before coming to see her. How had he   
survived it all?  
  
It was lucky she'd gotten back enough strength to kill that bitch   
herself. Usagi grinned, reveling in the memory. The Wraith could do   
what it wished to her, but hurting Mamoru was a whole other story.  
  
"Usagi-chan?"  
  
Minako peeked in. "How're you feeling?"  
  
"Too well to be in a lousy hospital bed," Usagi replied sharply. "My   
parents are still filling out paperwork."  
  
"Everyone's in the waiting room," Minako commented. "We have a   
surprise for you." The giant feast set out at Usagi's house would   
certainly satisfy the little odango, who had been complaining about the   
atrocious hospital food. Makoto's smuggled goodies had barely   
sustained Usagi.  
  
"Never mind me," Usagi said, "how are you doing? I heard from Mako-  
chan you had another date with Nishikawa-san."  
  
"Nishikawa-san?" Minako squirmed in her chair. "I . . . cancelled   
that."  
  
Usagi raised an eyebrow. "Why did you do that? Mako-chan said you   
were really excited about him."  
  
"I just . . . " Minako fiddled with her fingers. "I just didn't think   
getting into a relationship would be worth it."  
  
"Is this about me?" Usagi blurted out. "I want you to be happy, Mina-  
chan. You should go out with him."  
  
"It's not that," Minako said lamely. "I . . . I'm the leader of the   
Inner Senshi, Usagi-chan. I can't compromise that by mooning over boys   
any longer."  
  
Haruka popped her head in. "What're you two doing in here?"   
  
"Discussing the weather," Minako said coolly. "How are you doing,   
Haruka?"  
  
She saw Haruka's eyes narrow. "Quite well," she answered innocuously   
enough. "And yourself?"  
  
"Recovering."  
  
"That's good to know." Haruka nodded curtly and stepped away.  
  
Usagi glanced between the empty doorway and Minako. "What was that   
about?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"Nothing," Minako sighed, "nothing at all."  
  
Minako suddenly saw Rei in the doorway, beckoning her. She exited   
without even saying goodbye to Usagi.  
  
"You didn't tell me you'd broken off your date," Rei remarked sharply,   
staring at Minako.  
  
The blonde stared at her as if she'd just grown a second head. "What   
Are you yammering about?" she scowled. "It wasn't meant to be."  
  
"He made you happy, Minako."  
  
Her face dropped. "It wasn't worth it," she murmured, hanging her   
head. "Not after seeing all that. Someone died, Rei-chan. It's my   
duty to protect Hime-sama."  
  
Rei stared at her in shock and disbelief. "When did you become so   
cynical, Mina-chan?"  
  
Minako shook her head at the question. "If it means someday I might   
have to choose between my Princess and my Love, Rei-chan, well, then I   
don't know if I have the strength to do what I'd have to do. We're   
soldiers, Rei-chan. We can't let ourselves fall--"  
  
"Excuse me?" The small, wide-eyed girl who had interrupted looked   
hopefully up at them from the doorway, her eyes shining.  
  
Rei's eyes narrowed. "May I help you?" she asked icily, staring at the   
woman.  
  
"I'm looking for Tsukino Usagi-san's room," the girl said quietly, the   
temporary burst of fire in her eyes rapidly fading.  
  
Minako and Rei exchanged glances. "What for?"  
  
"Well . . . " the girl's eyes settled down on her shoes. "She has   
something that was once very precious to me." A solitary tear rolled   
down the girl's cheek.  
  
"Is something the matter?" On a rational level, Rei and Minako   
sympathized with the aura of pain they sensed around the woman. But   
the past few weeks had hardened their hearts; and now they were wary of   
lovers. This was a woman haunted by a ghost, Rei realized.  
  
She let out a tiny sob. "He-he saved me. He said he loved me. That's   
why--that's why he . . . he . . . "  
  
"He what?"  
  
"He-he p-p-pushed me out of the way of the car," she explained   
miserably through sobs. "But he . . . my poor Taro . . . "  
  
He died. Suddenly Minako understood what had happened. "Was he an   
organ donor?"  
  
She nodded. "They told me . . . the girl who got his heart . . . her   
name was Tsukino Usagi . . . I wanted to meet her. Is she still here?"  
  
"Iie," Rei cut in suddenly. "She's not here any longer."  
  
Minako raised an eyebrow at Rei, but the priestess shook her raven   
head. "I'm sorry, but she's long gone."  
  
"Oh," the girl replied, her eyes dim through the watery stream. "I   
hope she's happy . . . she . . . she got a heart full of love. Maybe   
she'll find someone . . . and have someone special like Taro was to   
me."  
  
"Unfortunately," Rei replied grimly, "she does."  
  
*********  
  
"Koibito-chan?"  
  
Michiru looked up at Haruka, still sorting through the photos. "What   
do you want, Haruka-chan?"  
  
Haruka sighed. "I want you, but that might not happen."  
  
"It might." Michiru looked at one of the pictures, one of Haruka   
working under a car. She looked up.  
  
"Otou-san wanted a boy," Haruka recalled softly, "but he told me that   
once I was born he wouldn't have traded me for a million boys."  
  
"That's nice," Michiru murmured. "Isn't it nice to have someone who   
will love you no matter what?"  
  
"It really is," Haruka agreed softly. "And I wanted to be just like   
him, he was so strong . . . 'Kaa-san thought it was disgraceful,   
playing with cars and dressing like a boy, but he always told me that   
the rest of the world's opinions won't matter if you aren't happy with   
yourself." She took a deep breath. "Unconditional love is   
precious . . . so when the one offering it slips away from you, you   
have to remind yourself that's what it is: unconditional. Not even   
death can make it go away."  
  
"I never thought of it that way," Michiru said quietly, staring at the   
image of her mother. "I just wish it didn't hurt so much. We never   
should've tried to shut the past out like that, Haruka-chan."  
  
"No," Haruka corrected her gently. "What's past is past; nothing can   
change that. What we did was worse. We shut away parts of ourselves.   
These memories . . . these people . . . they made us who we are, and   
the more I think about it, the less terrible that seems."  
  
Haruka knelt down next to Michiru. "I love you," she said simply.  
  
"I love you too," Michiru replied honestly, smiling wistfully at   
Haruka.  
  
They stopped for a moment, each staring at the other. "So what do we   
do now?" the tall, slim woman asked hoarsely, her fatigue apparent.  
  
"We start over," Michiru murmured, suddenly hugging Haruka to her   
breast. "No more locked doors. No more untreated wounds. But pain,   
and sadness, and a lot of demons to tame."  
  
"Then why do we even bother?" Haruka whispered into Michiru's chest.  
  
"Because love is worth any price."  
  
********  
  
Her family and six senshi were in the waiting room, happy and excited.   
Usagi was grinning like an idiot, looking expectantly at the door.  
  
"Happy to be leaving?" Minako poked her, smiling.  
  
She beamed. "Today Mamo-chan will come for me," she explained,   
deliberately ignoring the way her father began clenching his fists.  
  
Rei looked a bit surprised. "He hasn't visited you in the past week,   
you know," she commented, trying to make sure Usagi didn't expect too   
much.  
  
"It doesn't matter. He and I needed some time to sort out our   
thoughts," she explained matter-of-factly. "Besides, he's on some   
pretty heavy medications," she added, shrugging laconically. Usagi   
verily skipped out, much to the doctor's chagrin. He was busily giving   
last-minute instructions to her parents.   
  
"What's with her?" Makoto whispered as Minako rejoined the three Inners.  
  
"She thinks Mamoru-san is coming," Minako explained sadly. "I really   
hope she isn't expecting too much."  
  
All three senshi looked a bit paler. "I suppose we should put off   
telling her about Setsuna-san then," Ami said, sighing. "We really   
need to tell the three of them."  
  
To everyone's surprise, Makoto shook her head firmly. "They believed  
Hotaru-chan when she told them Setsuna-san went back to the Timegate,"   
Makoto pointed out. "They don't have to know."  
  
Ami stilled. "Are you suggesting--"  
  
"I'm not suggesting," Makoto cut in, "I'm flat-out saying. Let them be   
happy. They paid for it in blood."  
  
"Yeah--someone else's!" Minako exclaimed in disgust. "Their actions   
were disgustingly selfish! They SHOULD have to suffer the guilt of   
knowing her death was THEIR--"  
  
Rei put finger to Minako's lips. "Makoto's right," Rei replied. "We   
won't tell them, and if you do," she threatened, "you'll regret it."  
  
She pulled her finger away and Minako nodded wordlessly, then took off   
to talk to Usagi. Makoto escorted her, making certain Minako would   
keep her silent promise.  
  
Ami cocked her head towards Rei. "Explain why we're planning on   
deceiving Usagi-tachi," she ordered sharply, staring over where Minako   
and Makoto chatted with Haruka and Michiru.  
  
"Because apparently I'm a bloody optimist," Rei scowled. "Because   
after everything that's happened, I still believe that love is the most   
important emotion any of us can feel."  
  
"I don't understand," Ami replied.  
  
"Mina-chan's grown a bit cynical," Rei explained. "She thought love   
was this perfect, wonderful thing, right? Now she knows it's not that   
simple, but she's ignoring that made her think love was special in the   
first place. I want Usagi-chan and Mamoru-san and Haruka-san and   
Michiru-san to experience the joy of love before we spring the truth on   
them. Why ruin the thing they fought so hard for?"  
  
Rei and Ami stopped when they felt a presence suddenly enter the room.   
The entire room turned towards the door. It could only be one person   
who had just walked through those doors.  
  
The room was thick with tension as they surveyed the cold, stormy-eyed   
form of Chiba Mamoru. The intensity of his expression frightened even   
Usagi's father. His face was still slightly bruised and battered from   
the battle, and his left arm was in a sling. Despite the weariness   
that clung to him like a wet garment, he was oddly energized, ready for   
anything. Ready to challenge anyone who got in the way of Usagi and   
him. And ready to unleash the careless cruelty he had proven himself   
capable of, something that set the entire room on edge.  
  
But Usagi was not at all afraid, as she had once been. Instead, she   
smiled brightly and threw herself in his arms. He softened   
immediately, bringing his lips down on hers. Their kiss was so   
powerful, the temperature of the room rose five degrees. Rei thought   
she saw a faint red light around the couple.  
  
All good things must come to an end. When the couple came up for air   
they realized people were watching.  
  
Usagi looked at the crowd.  
  
She looked at Mamoru.  
  
She looked at the crowd again.  
  
"Oh, to hell with it," she said as she dragged him after her.  
  
********  
  
Hotaru hadn't come out of her room since the night she fought the   
Wraith except to go to the bathroom, which adjoined it at any rate.   
Her father was genuinely concerned for her mental welfare, and tried   
every method he could think of to get her out of her room, but she   
screamed and fled back into the safety of her little haven every time.  
  
Sometimes, late at night, he heard her talking to someone, but to whom   
he had no idea. One night, he found her with a shaving razor, staring   
at her wrists, and while she hadn't done anything to herself with it,   
the good doctor knew his daughter was fading away.  
  
The little senshi of death crawled under her covers and clutched her   
pillow. "I saw such terrible things in my mind, Setsuna-mama," she   
said aloud. "Such horrible things. I'm so scared.  
  
"But do you know what's worst of all, Setsuna-mama? When I see them,   
so happy, even after they killed you and that poor, pathetic woman.   
I'm afraid. Love is dangerous. We never should have toyed with that,   
tried to test Mamoru-san by resurrecting that ghost. Because we got   
our answer. Now you're dead for it."  
  
She struggled under the covers. "One day, one day Setsuna-mama, I'll   
avenge you. I'll make a world just for you, Setsuna-mama, where no   
one's love will hurt you. I PROMISE, Setsuna-mama! I PROMISE!"  
  
And she began to sob, crying miserably for all her shattered illusions   
and foolish ideals. When she slept, she dreamed of being the senshi of   
death that she was.  
  
*********  
  
He was never going to let her go, and she was perfectly fine with that.   
Mamoru would do anything for here, just as she would for him. Their   
love, for better or worse, would never be questioned after that.  
  
But at what cost had come her peace of mind? For a moment, a better   
part of Usagi suggested that the sick joy of sliding the blade through   
flesh, of declaring to the world that nothing would stand between her   
and Mamoru any longer, especially not some long-dead hussy who had   
already caused her share of grief, wasn't the joy of someone expected   
to be a fair and judicious monarch in the far-off castles of the   
future. Usagi remembered it now as Serenity had a thousand years ago:   
more than once she had fantasized about killing the dismal weakling   
that had hung on Endymion so. For a moment, she felt guilty.  
  
Then it passed. Beryl be damned. They had earned their   
happiness. No one would ever part them again.  
  
Something glinted in the weak moonlight. Usagi remembered she'd set   
the Star Locket on the nightstand before she and Mamoru had indulged in   
lovemaking. Michiru had said she'd done something to it. Now curious,   
she leaned over and reached out, trying to grab the locket without   
disturbing Mamoru.  
  
Unfortunately, he always was a light sleeper. Just as Usagi had it, he   
stirred and clasped her more tightly with his good arm.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked half-sleepily, half-  
seductively into her neck.  
  
"I'm just getting my locket," she explained. "Michiru-san said she'd   
changed it."  
  
That's when Usagi realized that the bottom felt different. Turning the   
locket over, she discovered someone had engraved a message into it.  
  
Mamoru let go of Usagi and rubbed his eyes, then read it himself.  
  
Amor vincit omnia.*  
  
********  
  
*Love conquers all--quote from Virgil's "Aeneid." 


End file.
